Frontier Frenzy
by Cookiekitten
Summary: The Frontier Brains of the Sinnoh region may operate as a group of experienced and competent trainers, but when they're on their own free time... Well, let's just say that the word "crazy" doesn't even begin to cover it...
1. Sugar Rush

**The Sinnoh Frontier Brains are severely underrepresented in terms of fanfiction, which is a shame since they're such wacky characters. They totally need more stories! (throws confetti)  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.**

* * *

"Argenta! Argenta, wake up!"

The Hall Matron groaned, her hopes of a relaxing spa treatment crumbling away as the persistent voice continued to call her name, shattering the tranquil silence. The magenta-haired woman sat up and grumpily removed the zucchini slices from her eyelids, fixing her reddish-brown eyes on the visitor, a younger woman with wild black hair. "Dahlia," she grumbled in annoyance, "I'm a little busy right now."

Completely ignoring the older woman's protests, Dahlia grabbed her friend's shoulders and shook her violently, her expression hysterical. "This is _important_, 'Genta!" the Arcade Star squealed, biting her lip and looking tearful. "I checked my freezer this morning and I'm all out of ice cream! Not only that, but I'm fresh out of cake, as well." Her shoulders slumped miserably and her face scrunched up into a pout, eliciting an exasperated sigh from the Hall Matron. Argenta arched a delicately plucked eyebrow and awkwardly patted her companion's shoulder, while massaging her own temple with the other hand.

"Dahlia," she questioned wearily, "have you ever considered cutting your sugar intake a bit?" The younger woman merely sniffled in response. "I think you've become unhealthily dependent on it, to the point where you cannot function whatsoever when you don't—"

"—Hey!" The Arcade Star suddenly perked up, her miserable face brightening into a smile so abruptly that Argenta was too disturbed to be angry about the interruption. "Hey, 'Genta, I have a great idea! Darach makes _really_ good chocolate-chip cookies! In fact, I'll bet he's making some right now... I'll go over to the Castle to see him! Thanks, Argenta! Bye-bye!"

And with that she dashed away, leaving the magenta-haired Frontier Brain sitting there, flabbergasted.

* * *

She spotted the Castle Valet in one of the hallways, polishing microscopic particles of dirt off an otherwise spotless staircase with a fluffy feather-duster. Humming in satisfaction, Darach then walked a few feet further, adjusting a large hanging portrait of the Castle's princess, and—

—and turned around only to see the Arcade Star standing inches behind him, grinning innocently. The man started, looking slightly flustered, and hastily executed a polite bow. "Miss Dahlia," he stammered, not quite over his initial shock, "if I may, can I ask why you are here?"

Dahlia cocked her head to one side. "Are you very busy right now, Dar?" she asked.

"I am in the process of cleaning the Castle at the moment, as you can undoubtably see," he answered distractedly, gesturing around the immaculately shining hallway as if it were tarnished and covered in grime. "Lady Caitlin values cleanliness greatly, and I must not disappoint her. But forgive my lapse of manners, Miss Dahlia, surely you are here to visit the princess? Shall I fetch my Lady now?"

The woman shook her head rapidly and gave the young butler a disarming smile. "Actually, Darach, I was wondering if you had any cookies. Chocolate-chip cookies? The really good ones you make that I always eat right out of the oven and burn my mouth on?" The desperation in her voice was growing more and more evident. "I went to the Battle Hall earlier, see, but 'Genta didn't have anything... Y-you _do_ have some, right?"

"...Ah." The man shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his elegantly styled hair before bowing apologetically. "You'll have to forgive me, Miss Dahlia, but I don't."

"Well, you can bake some more, right? Please, Darach, _pleeeeeease_?" she begged, looking as though she'd start foaming at the mouth at any moment. He bit his lip and shook his head in the negative, and she continued, pouting, "Why not? Is it because I'm interfering with your cleaning? I wiped my feet before coming in!"

"N-no! It's not that, I can assure you," the Castle Valet protested, wringing his hands. "It's... well, it's Lady Caitlin, you see. She seems to be going through a phase where she's convinced that she is overweight, and actively forbade me from making confections. I've tried to convince her that she has a perfectly petite figure, but my Lady can be rather... obstinate... at times..."

"Darach! I heard that!" The voice came from the aforementioned princess, and the butler cringed and bowed low as a slender girl with magnificently wavy, light brown hair came into view. She folded her arms over her chest and glared at the much taller man, green eyes narrowed. Dahlia, deciding to leave before things got nasty, turned and hurriedly jogged away.

"Thanks anyway, Dar! See you later, Cait! Hope your weight issues get resolved soon!" the Arcade Star called over her shoulder, waving. The princess squeaked indignantly and, with an angry frown, stomped over to her cowering butler.

* * *

"Well, I might as well try Palmer," she halfheartedly mused, feeling on the verge of losing hope completely as she hurried to the Battle Tower. Upon entering the tall building and walking through a few rooms to the battle arena, she was nearly blinded as several powerful floodlights doused the area with brightness. "Palmer?" the woman called, squinting. "You there?"

"Indeed, Arcade Star Dahlia!" was the loud reply, and the figure of a tall man with unruly blond hair leapt out from the shadows, standing before her in a dramatic pose as his long green coat billowed from some unseen source of wind. "I take it you are here for a battle, no? As the Tower Tycoon, I accept your challenge! Show me your skill as a fellow Frontier Brain! Ha ha ha!" He ended his speech with a rather maniacal laugh, which soon died away as the woman stared at him, biting her lip as not to start laughing. "...Did I overdo it a bit?" he asked after a moment, deflating.

"Just a little, Palm," she sighed, shifting her position so the lights were not shining directly in her eyes. "I'm not really here for a battle today. I was hoping you might have—"

"Not here for a battle?" he interrupted, crossing his arms and frowning in disappointment. "I'm surprised at that, really. Here I was hoping for an good match... but beggars can't be choosers, I guess. What's going on?"

The Arcade Star made a face. "Well, you interrupted me before I could say," she chided in mock-annoyance. "See, I'm fresh out of cake, Argenta doesn't have anything good in her pantry, _and _Caitlin won't let Darach make any cookies. Palmer, _please_ tell me you have some candy or something that can tide me over until I have time to go to the store! I'm practically going through sugar-withdrawal over here!" As if to further illustrate her point, the woman grabbed fistfuls of her hair and spun around in a nervous circle before facing him once more, her left eye twitching ominously.

The Tower Tycoon backed a few steps away from her, a bit alarmed. "Eh... Well, I _might_ have something stashed away..."

"Really? Palm, if you do, I'll... umm..." She racked her brains furiously. "...I'll clear your overdue bar tab at the Arcade!"

Palmer immediately perked up. "Whoa, you'd do that for me, seriously? That would be great, the bouncer doesn't even let me in there anymore. But, now that I think about it," he continued disappointedly, "I'm pretty sure I sent everything back to my home in Twinleaf for my son."

Dahlia looked heartbroken at this.

* * *

Normally the Arcade Star would have laughed at the idea of asking Thorton if he had any sugary munchies, but desperate times called for desperate measures. The Battle Factory was full of flashy machinery emitting constant beeps and whirrs, sounds the woman found far from inviting. Nevertheless, she made her way to where the Factory Head stood poring over his analysis machine, and he spoke before she had even opened her mouth. "Hey, Dahlia," he said, his eyes not once leaving his gadget. "Push that red switch to your left, will you?"

"Nice to see you, too, Thor," she sighed despondently, reaching back and flipping the switch he had indicated. It immediately activated a small conveyer belt which spun merrily in place, carrying a square box into view. The teen, after setting his analysis machine down carefully, snatched the box up and deposited it into the Arcade Star's arms, grinning as she tore it open curiously. Inside was a large chocolate cake.

Dahlia nearly fainted. "For the love of Arceus, Thorton," she said faintly, "you must be a psychic. That does it—I am _never_ playing cards with you again."

"Don't be ridiculous," the boy sighed. "Argenta called me a few hours ago about your predicament. She told me that you might visit, so I devised a hypothesis and came to the conclusion that you were seventy-two percent likely to, having failed at the other facilites, end up here at my doorstep. Pretty impressive, no?" The Factory Head smiled victoriously, clearly pleased with himself. He nearly stumbled back as Dahlia jumped forward, hugging him affectionately.

"You are _such_ a nerd," she giggled, and he, for once, did not protest.

* * *

**And so it begins.**

**Cookiekitten loves requests, so feel free to throw some ideas at me. :D**


	2. Devotion

**Valetshipping, perhaps?**

**This chapter can be a giftie to ArcanineOod, 'cause she likes this pairing and stuff, haha. :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.**

* * *

It was rare to see the Castle Valet at the Battle Frontier's Arcade, and even rarer still to see him without the constant company of his princess. And yet here he was, alone, looking rather out-of-place in his classy suit and tie amidst the flashing lights and blinking neon signs of Dahlia's facility, which was why the Arcade Star soon sauntered over, clearly curious about her friend's unexpected visit. Completely oblivious to Dahlia's approach as his back was facing her, the butler waved over a nearby barkeeper and (his shoulders slumped in a sad, defeated sort of way) proceeded to order 'something heavily alcoholic', which made the young woman's smile fade into a concerned frown. She was about to move closer when she suddenly realized that his hair had been dyed purple.

Purple.

_Purple._

The same color as Argenta's.

Unable to contain herself any longer, she burst out laughing, nearly doubling over as tears of mirth threatened to fall from her eyes. Startled, Darach whipped around in alarm before fixing the woman with a rather flustered glare. "M-must you always sneak up behind me like that? You'll give me a heart attack one of these days, you know," he said with a distasteful frown. Dahlia merely continued to giggle behind her hands, finally managing to choke out a few words:

"Darach... what... did you _do_... to your _hair_?" she articulated at last between bouts of laughter, and her companion seemed to deflate a few inches in sheer mortification, his annoyed expression shifting into one of resignation.

"Please, Miss Dahlia, it's not funny! Lady Caitlin ordered me to—"

"—to dye your hair _purple_?" the Arcade Star finished for him, quirking an eyebrow in disbelief. The butler's distraught mood had effectively sombered her up so she was no longer laughing, and truthfully she now felt quite mean for laughing at him so lightheartedly. Still, she managed to flash a sad smile in his direction, shaking her head in a concerned fashion. "Eh, you really need to draw the line at some point, Dar," she finally sighed, eyebrows furrowed. "I know Cait's your employer, _and_ she probably wears the pants in your relationship..." (Darach made a small sound of protest, evidently keen to defend the princess from such a crude comment) "...but enough is enough, y'know? You practically worship the ground she walks on, and that's... probably... not... a good... thing."

The Arcade Star trailed off, biting her lip. If there was a flaw with Darach (besides his meticulous and obsessive-compulsive cleaning habits, that is), it was that he was too strongly devoted to Caitlin to care much about how it affected his own well-being. This was going to be harder than she'd thought. Finally, for lack of something better to do, the black-haired woman threw her arms up into the air and ground her teeth together in obvious exasperation. "Look, Darach, you just need to stand up to her more so stupid crap like this doesn't happen. It'll be easier on _me_ as well, 'cause then you won't end up depressed and passed out at my bar all the time."

"That only happened _once_, thank you very much," the Castle Valet countered with a pained frown. After a short moment he added, "And if you care to know, Lady Caitlin actually told me to dye my hair _black_, not purple..."

The Arcade Star raised her eyebrows. "Uh huh, right. And why'd she want you to do that?"

"She said my hair was stupid."

"Your hair _is_ stupid," Dahlia reasoned. "...Even so, that kind of comment seems a little uncalled for."

"...Indeed. Anyway, I went to the Hall Matron for help, but I regret to say that Miss Argenta got a little... carried away," the man concluded meekly. Dahlia stared at him, her expression akin to one of pity. This was almost as bad as the time Caitlin had ordered him to wear a dress and answer to the title 'Castle Maid Darach'. Worse yet, Palmer had found that whole incident completely hilarious, and even Thorton had looked up from his analysis machine long enough to crack an amused grin. The butler's current situation hadn't quite hit that level of rock-bottom yet... But, Dahlia mused, it didn't seem to be getting any better either.

* * *

Just as the Arcade Star predicted, Darach's dilemma didn't improve. In fact, a few hours later it worsened considerably. The doors suddenly swung open and the Castle's princess herself strode in, glancing around at the colorful lights and electronic surroundings with a somewhat dispassionate air. Finally spotting Dahlia amidst the crowd, she made her way over and stood before the older woman with her arms crossed over her chest. "Dahlia," she began seriously, "is that stupid butler of mine here? He missed dinner."

"Um, yeah, Cait. He's sorta sitting right next to me."

"_W-what?_" The princess stepped closer and the Castle Valet seemed to finally notice her presence, leaping up and awkwardly bowing, a painfully delayed gesture. Breaking the rather mortified silence that followed, the girl shook her head and heaved a heavy sigh, not even seeming to care how unladylike the sound was. "For the love of Arceus, Darach, I thought you were Argenta. What did you do to your _hair_?"

The atmosphere seemed to have dropped about ten degrees, thick with rising tension. "F-forgive me, my Lady. I merely—"

"That's enough, Darach." Caitlin's voice was cold and hard, like splintering ice. "Do you know how long I've waited for you back at the Castle? We were going to have dinner together, remember? I suppose you've been here with Dahlia this whole time, am I right?"

_'Oh, shit, leave me out of this,'_ the Arcade Star thought to herself inwardly. Aloud, she said, "We weren't on a date or anything, Caitlin. Darach came by after 'Genta screwed up his hair, and we just chatted for a while. The time really flew by, I guess—I was just telling him about how yesterday I pushed Thorton into a puddle when you walked in."

The princess didn't uncross her arms but a strange look passed across her face for a scant moment, so briefly that Dahlia was half-convinced that she had only imagined it. It was a mixture of relief and frustration, and the Arcade Star for the first time saw behind the commanding and apathetic mask a living, breathing girl, emotionally troubled after being thrust into such a powerful position at so young an age.

Whether it had been real or imagined, the moment soon ended and Caitlin turned away with a frown, her expression cool and businesslike once more. She glanced at her butler for a split-second, her green eyes conflicted and hard, then stalked away and disappeared out the Arcade doors. After a moment Dahlia shot the man next to her a questioning look, raising an eyebrow. "...Uh, okay then. Aren't you going to follow her, Dar?" she finally asked, though she was fairly sure she knew the answer. The Castle Valet sighed and shook his head.

"No, I'm... I'm pretty sure Lady Caitlin doesn't want to talk to me right now," he replied, looking somewhat depressed. "I'm sorry, Miss Dahlia, but do you mind if I stay here a little while longer?"

"Oh, it's no trouble. I can hardly blame Cait for being upset, though. I mean, it's bad enough you missed your dinner date with her, but then she finds out that it's because you've been with _me_ all evening... Arceus, it's no wonder she was mad."

"Will you _please_ stop doing that?"

Dahlia paused. "Doing what?"

"Implying that... we're in a _relationship_ or something." The butler groaned and rubbed his temples tiredly. "As lightheartedly as you mean it to be, Miss Dahlia, it's still hardly an appropriate thing to suggest."

"I was being serious that time, Darach," his female coworker replied with an exasperated grin. "Can't you tell she has a crush on you?"

Apparently, the thought had never crossed his mind.

* * *

**I imagine Dahlia takes the initiative to write the phone numbers of various self-help groups on Darach's forehead when he's passed out, because the way I write him, he seems to have a bit of a drinking problem. D:**

**(Then again, living with Caitlin can probably do that to you...)  
**


	3. First Meetings

**In which Palmer and his coworkers have their first ever meeting... and things don't go quite according to plan.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.**

* * *

The blond man sighed and tapped his gloved fingers against the tabletop in an obvious display of impatience, whistling an aimless tune as he waited alone in the spacious meeting room. After a moment he glanced down at his watch, clicked his tongue in annoyance, and continued his tapping with no less vigor than before, running a hand through his tousled mop of scruffy yellow hair and exhaling loudly through his nostrils. No sooner had he closed his eyes tiredly than he heard the doors swing open with a bang, and a cheerful-looking young woman literally _bounced_ into the room. "Hi there! Tower Tycoon Palmer, right?" she asked brightly, plopping down onto one of the swivel chairs and spinning around in it, nearly knocking over an ornate potted plant in the corner.

Palmer dove down and caught the tipping plant with one hand, forcing a smile. "Er, yeah, that's me," he said with a fake laugh. "You're... um... Delilah, right?"

"Close enough! It's Dahlia," the woman corrected with a good-natured grin. "Nice to meet ya, Palm!" The man winced inwardly at the nickname, but the matter was soon forgotten as the doors swung open again and the remaining Brains filed into the room. The first was a middle-aged woman with shockingly purple hair and a comically oversized pair of sunglasses pushed up on her forehead. Behind her came a rather snooty-looking girl, closely followed by a suited young man who appeared to be her butler. And finally, the last person to enter was a very short teenaged boy, whose half-lidded eyes were currently focused on a small gizmo he held in his hand. Dahlia reached over and mussed up his odd black-and-green hair as he sat down, giggling.

"You got last place, Factory Head," she gloated in a victorious, sing-song voice. Shorty spared her a brief glance, before returning his gaze to his machine. "I wasn't aware that we were racing in the first place," he deadpanned after a moment, and his disinterested tone made the black-haired woman frown in dismay.

"Er," Palmer said intelligently. He ran his fingers through his hair again and stood up, crossing his arms in an attempt to look authoritative. It worked—as far as he could tell, that is—and the other Brains fell silent and looked towards him expectantly. The man rubbed the back of his head and grinned. "Well, welcome to the Battle Frontier! My name is Palmer, and I am the Tower Tycoon. As coworkers, it's important that we can work together and operate under a system of trust and friendship. I thought that, to begin with, we could start by introducing ourselves and... uh... just get to know each other better."

The others looked somewhat unenthusiastic about this (in particular, the princess girl shot Palmer a rather derisive glance before flipping her hair dispassionately). Dahlia was, unsurprisingly, the first to volunteer. "Me! Me! Pick me! Hey, Palm, I'll go first! Pick _meeeeeeeeeeee_!" she squealed, bouncing at the edge of her seat with her hand thrust high in the air. She waved frantically, smacking the young butler in the face and knocking his glasses askew.

At this point, Palmer decided that this woman seemed to be in a permanent state of sugar-high, and privately resolved to avoid her as much as possible (for his own safety, of course). "S-sure, go ahead," he said, nodding vigorously while subtly edging his chair as far away as he could without it being noticeable. The black-haired woman beamed.

"Hi! My name is Dahlia, and I run the Battle Arcade!" she announced loudly, practically sparkling from sheer cheerfulness. "My facility relies on chance and luck. Life goes through many twists and turns, but nothing is ever set in stone. Nothing is ever scripted, or set to happen without fail. We must take hardships as they are thrown at us, like surprises from the game board. That's what I believe in."

Dahlia paused dramatically for effect, but frowned when the teenaged boy snickered slightly from behind his machine. "Got a problem with that, Shorton?" she challenged, glaring at her coworker across the table. The teen rolled his eyes.

"It's _Thorton_," he corrected.

"I know that, but I'm calling you Shorton because you're _short_! And 'cause you're annoying!" She ended her sentence by sticking out her tongue and promptly turning away. The Tower Tycoon rubbed his forehead, feeling the beginnings of a huge migraine building in his temples.

"Right then. Shorton—" (the boy sent the blond man a filthy look) "—Thorton, _Thorton_, sorry 'bout that... Er, why don't you go next?"

The teen stood from his chair and Palmer had to quickly disguise his laughter as a coughing fit, because the boy was indeed so short that standing up seemed to have hardly made a difference in his height. Not appearing to notice this, the teen said in a bored tone, "I'm Factory Head Thorton, and as you can all probably guess, I run the Battle Factory. I battle with rental Pokémon and I use this machine," he pulled out the blue gizmo he'd been fiddling with, "to analyze my opponent's Pokémon. I also—"

"That looks like a plain old Vs. Recorder," Dahlia interjected, leaning forward and swiping it from his hand. "What's so great about this piece of junk?"

"That 'piece of junk' happens to be a highly advanced machine capable of examining an opposing trainer's Pokémon and creating an extremely accurate report on its weaknesses, strengths, and level of power," Thorton countered, snatching it back. "With such in-depth knowledge of the opposing Pokémon, I am able to gain an edge even in disadvantageous match-ups, without having to rely on such ridiculous concepts as luck, or chance—"

"Moving on," Palmer interrupted evasively, glancing about warily as the Arcade Star and Factory Head glared at each other furiously, "who's going next?"

* * *

The silence that immediately followed his question seemed to reinforce the idea that nobody really wanted to go next. Against all odds, however, it was the young princess who then stood up, smoothing her pink dress with a careless flick of her wrist and fixing the Tower Tycoon with an impassive gaze. "I am the owner and princess of the Battle Castle, and as such I must request that I am addressed as _Lady_ Caitlin," she said, her voice calm and carefully expressionless. Despite her innocent appearance and diminutive frame the princess managed to project an intimidating aura, and Palmer shrank back into his seat a little, quickly breaking contact with the girl's haunting, empty eyes. And he'd thought _Dahlia_ was scary...

"I watch the matches conducted at the Castle and assess challengers based on their performances," Caitlin continued calmly. "I do not, however, take part in the battles." She seemed to pause for a moment and her butler then stood to join her, bowing politely and respectfully to Palmer. The Tower Tycoon nodded in return, in the back of his mind musing that at least _one_ of his Brains seemed to be more-or-less sane...

"As Lady Caitlin is unable to battle, I do so in her ladyship's place. My—" the young man began, but he was very abruptly cut off when his princess whipped around and shrieked, "Who the _hell_ said you could talk? I wasn't finished yet, you useless idiot!" Despite the fact that she was almost short enough to challenge Shorton—_Thorton_—and had a face as sweet as vanilla pudding, the entire room seemed to experience a sudden chill. Even Dahlia appeared intimidated, her ever persistent smile fading slightly—a feat Palmer had previously thought was impossible to accomplish. The butler cowered, bowing and apologizing profusely.

"Forgive me, my Lady! It was inexcusably rude of me to interrupt you so rashly!" he cried, wringing his hands in a worrisome manner. Practically groveling at her feet at this point, the butler's expression was one of such heartsick adoration that the Palmer nearly threw up. He resisted the urge to slap his forehead with a great deal of difficulty. '_Not sane_,' he inwardly groaned. _'_Definitely_ not sane_.'

Mean-Queen-Caitlin seemed to regret her previous outburst, and her expression changed to one of demure calmness so quickly that the Tower Tycoon briefly entertained the idea that she might have some sort of split personality disorder. "My butler, Darach, is the Castle Valet. We run the facility together," she explained serenely. Apparently having nothing more to say, the princess returned to her seat with a flourish. Darach sat down as well, meeting Palmer's gaze with a rather despondent one of his own, and the blond mentally resolved to, in the next meeting, make a point to go over the consequences of _emotionally abusive relationships_. That, or sign the duo up for intensive therapy—he couldn't decide which.

Figuring that things couldn't possibly get any worse, Palmer pulled a forced grin as the last Brain, the middle-aged woman, stood from her chair. She seemed normal enough, despite the magenta hair and ridiculously oversized, crimson sunglasses, and he relaxed a bit, relieved that the meeting could perhaps still be salvaged if he was lucky...

"Well, hello! It looks like we have lots of fun times ahead of us! I'm Hall Matron Argenta, in charge of the Battle Hall. I'm looking forward to working with such a group of _bright_, _shining_ trainers!" she declared, beaming.

Palmer was fairly sure that the majority of the group was _anything_ but 'bright' or 'shining' at the moment—his own face was twisted in an attempt not to break down crying from this disastrous meeting. Shorton, Thorton—_whatever_—looked to be entirely absorbed by his analysis machine (he seemed to be reading a highly detailed report on _Mudkips_ at the moment), Princess Caitlin was staring at the purple-haired woman blankly, and Mr. Battle-Butler Darach still looked as dejected as he had three minutes ago. Only the black-haired Arcade Star returned the Hall Matron's cheerful smile, but...

...well, it was the eternally happy _Dahlia_, after all.

* * *

_~a few minutes later~_

* * *

"A trust-building exercise?" Thorton repeated in an perturbed voice, half-lidded eyes focused on the Tower Tycoon in a display of undisguised disinterest. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No joke! Now catch me, Shorton!" Dahlia cheered, a black cloth tied over her eyes. She proceeded to fall backwards—and promptly landed on her rear. Growling, she ripped off the blindfold and fixed the teen with an extremely hostile glare. "You're supposed to _catch_ me, craphead!" she exclaimed in a unnecessarily loud voice. The Factory Head didn't even spare her a glance, his attention completely focused on his machine. Palmer hurried over, nearly tugging handfuls of his hair out in pure frustration, and plucked the blindfold from Dahlia's hand.

"No, no, no!" he roared, wishing he could just melt into the ground and disappear from this nightmare of a meeting. "Dahlia, Thorton... I'm sorry, but your team _fails epically_! Now watch carefully—_here's_ how you do it!" He then tied the cloth over his eyes with unneeded force, posed dynamically, fell backwards, and—

—and Caitlin, his partner, gave a rather snide laugh before purposefully stepping out of the way, causing the man to drop down into the carpeted floor with a satisfying crash. "You'll have to forgive my clumsiness, Tower Tycoon," she said sweetly over the blond's loud swearing.

It did not come as a surprise that, soon after this particular incident, the meeting reached an early end.


	4. Make Way For The Champion!

**As requested by the awesome Pokemonsuit, the Battle Frontier plays host to the one and only Champion Cynthia! What could _possibly_ go wrong? Well, let me count the ways...  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.**

**

* * *

**

"You know," Argenta began in an unimpressed voice, "it's awfully rude to call an emergency meeting and then arrive ten minutes _later_ than everyone else."

The recipient of her comment barely moved from where he was slumped in his chair, panting and gasping for breath. After several long moments Palmer finally looked up, his face flushed from a mixture of exhaustion and embarrassment. "The elevator's broken," he wheezed defensively. "I had to run all the way down here from the top floor... really need to get that damn thing fixed. Thorton, d'you think you could take a look at it later?"

"Sure thing, O Exalted Leader." The Factory Head's voice held a clear ring of sarcasm in its depths, though Palmer seemed too distracted to take much notice in it. After a few moments the blond man drew himself up to his full height, still slightly breathless, and glanced around the room for the first time. His eyes widened a bit as he studied his coworkers' appearances, and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing:

Dahlia had obviously just woken up, her habitual yellow shirt and jeans replaced by a pair of Pikachu-patterned pajamas which were so brightly colored that the Tower Tycoon wondered if his eyes might start bleeding if he looked in her direction for too long. She also seemed to have bedhead—something that, quite frankly, Palmer thought was _astonishing_ considering how wild her hair normally was anyway. The Arcade Star stifled a yawn and rubbed her eyes tiredly, her current subdued state a dramatic contrast to her usual hyper self.

Argenta, while fully dressed, looked as though Palmer's call had interrupted the considerable time she took in front of the mirror each day to apply makeup. The Hall Matron's hair was frazzled and the matching lipstick smeared on her mouth was crooked and haphazardly applied, giving her the overall appearance of a Pokémon that had snacked on too many magenta-colored berries.

Darach's usual attire was completely absent. In place of his formal suit and tie he was wearing what looked like a bathrobe with little Empoleons on it, complete with matching slippers. His hair was damp and unstyled as opposed to the elaborate curl it was always combed into, and his glasses were missing as well. Caitlin, like Dahlia, was still wearing pajamas. The princess nibbled on a piece of toast and shot Palmer a largely reproachful glare, clearly annoyed by the earliness of the meeting.

And last but not least, Thorton... looked the same as he always did.

* * *

"This had better be important, Palm," Dahlia pouted, effectively snapping the Tower Tycoon out of his thoughts on the Factory Head's amazingly unchanging appearance. "It's Saturday, y'know, and I was really looking forward to sleeping in a bit."

"It's only nine in the morning," the blond argued, albeit a bit guiltily. "I assure you, though, that this matter is of utmost importance! You see, it has come to my attention that... er... well, how should I put this into words..?"

The other Brains listened to their leader with various levels of interest (Dahlia groaned and rested her head on the table tiredly, using her arm as a makeshift pillow). Thorton, one eyebrow raised as he watched the older man struggle with his words, let out an exasperated sigh before piping up, "You forgot that we're having a visitor today, didn't you?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I was trying to... Wait, _what_?" Palmer gaped at his younger coworker, shocked. "How the hell did _you_ know?"

The Factory Head deigned to respond. Instead, the teen calmly turned to the magenta-haired woman sitting next to him and outstretched his hand with a smirk. "I win the bet. Pay up," he said smugly. The Hall Matron grumbled and dug into her pants pocket, producing a wad of money, which she reluctantly shoved into the teen's open palm. The Tower Tycoon watched this entire exchange with his jaw dropped in stunned silence, before anger took over. "Thorton, Argenta..." he thundered incoherently, "you two placed a bet... on whether or not I'd know that Champion Cynthia is coming to the Battle Frontier today?"

The two of them shrugged innocently, which did nothing more than further infuriate the blond, who had gone quite red and looked to be on the verge of exploding like a miniature version of Stark Mountain. Huffing angrily, the man turned to the remaining Brains, grinding his teeth together audibly. "And what about you three? Did you play any part in this?" he growled. Dahlia, sitting up from her slumped position on the table, offered the man an amiable smile, clearly unaffected by his angry tone. "Not a chance, Palm. I leave my betting to the Arcade," she chirped, yawning lightly. Palmer groaned and crossed his arms, turning to face the princess and her butler with an accusatory frown on his face.

"And you two? Just innocent bystanders as well, huh?"

Caitlin rolled her eyes and her response, as expected, was snappish and blunt. "Someone of my status can't gamble, you dunce. A _gambling_ princess... Don't you think that sort of thing might cause a bit of a scandal?"

"Fine, fine!" The Tower Tycoon threw his arms into the air in surrender. "What about you, Darach?"

"I refused to participate as well, naturally. As her butler, to do otherwise would likely tarnish Lady Caitlin's reputation," the Castle Valet replied promptly, shivering in his bathrobe. Palmer, now acutely aware that he was fighting a hopeless battle, spun around and threw a little fit into the process of returning to his chair. The action elicited rolled eyes from Thorton and Caitlin, a vaguely sympathetic glance from Darach, and absolutely no response at all from Dahlia—who had returned to napping on the table. Argenta, the self-proclaimed 'mature adult' of the group, heaved a small sigh.

"The Champion's visit has been all over the news for the last two weeks, you know," she chided gently, arcing a delicate eyebrow at the despondent Tower Tycoon. "I'm not trying to be critical, Palmer, but don't you watch television at all?"

The man blushed, clearing his throat with a theatrical cough. "Ah, well... mostly just the sports channel..."

Thorton snorted. "I vote for impeachment. Raise your hand if you agree with me, majority rule," he drawled, raising his own hand. Much to Palmer's annoyance, most of the others did the same, though Dahlia was still drowsy and most likely unaware of what she was voting on, and Darach was bound to vote the same as Caitlin anyway. "That's a majority!" the Factory Head hummed in clear satisfaction. He then stood up and reached his arm over as if to give the blond man a smug handshake. "Sorry, Tower Tycoon, but I'm afraid you've been kicked out."

Palmer's response was to flash the teen a rather rude hand gesture. Not to be undone, Thorton simply pulled out his analysis machine and completely ignored the older man.

"Moving on," Argenta interrupted forcibly. She resisted the urge to overturn the table in frustration of her coworkers' lack of maturity with a great deal of difficulty. "Champion Cynthia's expected to be here around six o'clock this evening for dinner, and we'll be eating at the Castle. Caitlin and Darach have already made all the arrangements, so the rest of us only need to dress up and make it there in one piece."

The Tower Tycoon gave it a nanosecond. While the Hall housed a spa center and the Arcade was home to a dance floor and bar, the Battle Castle contained a beautiful five-star restaurant which, courtesy of Caitlin's ridiculous wealth, was widely known to be one of the best in all of Sinnoh. Palmer had never dined there more than a handful of times, despite the considerable discounts he received for being a Frontier Brain. He simply found the place to be just too darn elegant for someone like him, not to mention the fact that he could barely pronounce anything on that Arceus-damned, fancy-schmancy menu.

It _was_ an ideal place to make a good impression, though. And as much as his prideful self hated to admit it, he was grateful that the other Brains had taken the initiative to bail his woefully forgetful ass out of the fire. "Great, that's easy enough," the blond finally grunted. He was clearly trying to sound authoritative in an attempt to salvage his now laughable status as the Frontier Brain leader. "I, uh, have some ground rules that I'd like to announce, before the meeting's over." These words drew raised eyebrows from his coworkers, but Palmer still trudged on, blustering:

"First off—Argenta. I'd greatly appreciate it if you keep in mind that Cynthia, while mature far beyond her years, is still a very _young_ woman. So please, for the love of Arceus, don't try to sell her any anti-aging products or skin creams!" Argenta sputtered at this, looking offended.

"Dahlia," the man continued determinedly, "at least _try_ to show a little restraint tonight, and make an effort to actually eat some dinner instead of just pigging out on all the desserts." The Arcade Star shot the blond man a deeply disappointed glance, deflating a few inches into her chair.

Palmer seemed to take a few moments to steel his nerves, before turning to face the 'problem pair,' as he liked to call them. "Caitlin, I know it's hard for you, but try _not_ to maul your butler every time something goes wrong—I'm tired of getting complaints from challengers claiming that you advocate domestic violence. Same goes for you, Darach. You really don't need to apologize to her every ten seconds, because, y'know... it's... well, it kinda creeps the rest of us out."

Caitlin's face scrunched into an annoyed glare that clashed spectacularly with her otherwise sweet and angelic appearance, while Darach simply looked uncomfortable. Apparently satisfied, the Tower Tycoon then turned to face his last coworker. "And Thorton..."

Thorton barely looked up from his analysis machine, raising one eyebrow boredly.

"...Er, yeah. Maybe it'll be best if you don't say anything at all," Palmer finished lamely.

* * *

**Part two coming soon. :D**

**Will Cynthia's visit go well, or will it end with such chaos that Palmer and his Brainmates are doomed to be permanently scarred for all eternity..? Probably the latter. Dx  
**


	5. The Dining Disaster

**Part two of Pokemonsuit's request. Cynthia's here, and things get a little... chaotic. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.**

**

* * *

**"That's a fascinating machine," Cynthia commented over her glass of wine, casually peering over Thorton's shoulder. She seemed genuinely interested, which wasn't particularly surprising when it was taken into account that, alongside her duties as the Sinnoh League Champion, she was also an avid researcher. "If you don't mind me asking, what does it do?"

Across the table, Palmer relaxed slightly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. To say that he was feeling stressed right now would be an understatement, to say the least. After all, it wasn't often that the Frontier played host to such an important person as the Champion, and he was _determined_ that the evening would go well. And Thorton, despite his age, was one of the more mature Brains by far. Miles ahead of, say, Dahlia in terms of seriousness. A nice, safe conversationalist.

"It's a dumbass-detector," the Factory Head deadpanned after a short pause, and the blond man slapped his forehead in disbelief. Seemingly to further illustrate his point, the boy waved the little blue gadget around in Palmer's direction as if it were a metal detector. A series of beeping noises emitted from it, and he hummed in satisfaction. "Which, you see, explains why it always goes off around the Tower Tycoon."

A few feet away, Dahlia snorted and then tried to cover it up by coughing loudly into her napkin. Her valiant attempt failed, and Palmer, gritting his teeth, slammed his glass down just a little _too_ violently and accidently splashed his red wine all over the costly-looking tablecloth. The crimson puddle soaked into the pristine white fabric quite rapidly, and Darach and Caitlin winced.

"Oh... do try to be more careful. These tablecloths are handwoven from Spinarak silk, and... well, they're very expensive," the Castle Valet said tentatively, after an awkward pause. There was the faintest hint of reproachfulness in his voice, which was probably the closest that the man, polite to a fault, ever got to being downright _rude_. It wasn't too hard to see why, though—the poor fellow obsessed over the cleanliness of the Castle to the point where the walls and hallways shined like marble, and Palmer was sure he had never seen so much as a speck of dust in the entire facility. Caitlin, sitting to the butler's left, contented herself with shooting the blond man an annoyed glare.

"Your coworkers are quite humorous, Palmer," Cynthia stated after a short moment, smiling slightly. "You must have a great time running the Frontier." She seemed completely unbothered, even _amused_, by the obvious tension in the atmosphere. Aware that the Champion was looking at him expectantly, the Tower Tycoon arranged his face into a painful smile with a huge amount of effort. "Uh, yeah, that's right! We're all a big... _happy_... family!" Grinning in a manic sort of way, the Frontier Brain leader reached over and ruffled the Factory Head's black-and-green hair. "Isn't that right, _Shorton_?"

The teen scowled, and he looked as though he was sorely tempted to bite the man's hand. Palmer quickly withdrew his arm with a grimace.

He wasn't really sure what he'd been expecting in the first place. A calm, _normal_ dinner? Maturity from his coworkers? Both seemed unlikely. The blond's mouth twitched into a frown as he sank back into his seat, his eyes sliding over to Dahlia, who was chatting with the Champion in her usual lively fashion. The Arcade Star had stayed true to his earlier request, but not without difficulty. Their waitress had stopped by the table not long ago to take orders for drinks, and the black-haired woman had looked as though she wanted nothing more than to order dessert straightaway. After a guilty glance at Palmer, however, she had settled for requesting a glass of _chocolate milk,_ of all things. Thank Arceus for small favors. He almost didn't even care that she was slurping her beverage through a multicolored bendy straw.

A sigh escaped the Tower Tycoon's lips. To be perfectly honest, things were going far better than he'd hoped. Dahlia was clearly making an effort. Argenta had managed to keep her skin products to herself, though it obviously pained her to do so. Caitlin seemed to be having great success with anger management and, likewise, Darach hadn't lapsed into any apologetic outbursts yet. And as for Thorton's sarcastic remarks... well, that was more-or-less to be expected.

The evening was going well, and he was hellbent on keeping it that way.

* * *

The Frontier Brain leader had to admit, the food looked and smelled delicious. He was stumped, however, on exactly _how_ he was supposed to eat the stuff piled on these fancy silver platters. Which knife was he supposed to use? Why did he have _three_ forks? Why, for the love of Arceus, couldn't they have just eaten at a burger joint instead?

It wasn't until he noticed the insulted look Caitlin was shooting him that Palmer realized his last thought had been articulated out loud. "What, is my restaurant not good enough for you, dearest Tower Tycoon?" the princess asked, a testy smile on her face. The apparent sweetness of her voice seemed to serve as a clear indication that there would be hell to pay later. The blond let out a nervous laugh.

"N-no, of course not!" Hastily, he grabbed the nearest dish and proceeded to dump half of its contents onto his plate. "As a matter of fact, this, uh... fishy stuff... happens to be my favorite meal of all time! See?" He took a huge bite, promptly burned his mouth, and sprayed the offending food all over an unfortunate Dahlia and Darach.

"_B__ouillabaisse_?" Cynthia supplied helpfully, in perfect, articulate French. She handed her own napkin over to the Arcade Star, while Caitlin did the same with her butler (who, at this point, looked to be on the verge of hyperventilation). "You know," the Champion continued with an amused chuckle, "Flint has actually been thinking of starting his own fast-food chain."

The magenta-haired Hall Matron, who had been watching the entire incident with a look of utter revulsion on her face, blinked in curiosity. "Flint?" she questioned speculatively. "Isn't he a member of the Elite Four? The one with... you know... that weird _hair_?" She gestured wildly around her head, as if envisioning a massive, red afro.

Palmer, in the middle of fanning his woefully burned tongue, resisted the sudden urge to snort. Weird hair? This, he privately thought, seemed pretty rich coming from a woman with purple-colored locks and a fringe sharp enough to poke out an eye. Not to mention Dahlia, whose wild hair seemed to have a life of its own. He kept these musings to himself, however, and contented himself with just listening to the conversations as the meal carried on. It was only when the chitchat started to go in a direction he didn't like that he decided to break in:

"All right, Dahlia, that's enough," he said sternly. The aforementioned Arcade Star pouted.

"Don't be a spoilsport, Palm. I'm just telling Cynthia a funny story, that's all."

Palmer groaned. "Dahlia, your 'funny story' happens to be about the time you put itching powder in my underwear drawer."

"So, what's your point?"

The blond man sputtered indignantly, but Cynthia offered the female Frontier Brain a gentle smile. "It's fine, Dahlia," she soothed. "How about a different story instead?"

Her arms crossed in annoyance, the black-haired woman had been glaring at the Frontier Brain leader while grumbling under her breath (the words 'Palmer,' 'craphead,' and 'underwear' popping up randomly). Now, however, her face brightened considerably as she fixed the Champion with a cheerful smile, already back to her normal, peppy self. "Well," she chirped with a wide grin, "there was this one time that I replaced all the computer screensavers with pictures of Thorton in a bikini!"

The said Factory Head had been about to take a sip of his drink but, apparently thinking better of it, set his glass back down with a scowl. "Those were altered photographs," he clarified. Then, as a diversion, the boy added, "Hey, it's time for dessert."

Immediately perking up, the Arcade Star smiled widely as numerous plates laden with sugary goodies were brought into her sight. The group's tiny, slender waitress was barely even visible behind the enormous chocolate cake she carried in her arms. As she gingerly set it down, Palmer could have sworn that the table _buckled_ under the weight.

Needless to say, Dahlia was in heaven.

* * *

"Now_ that's _just plain unfair," Argenta sighed. She was watching in a half-amused, half-envious way as her black-haired coworker piled yet another slice of cheesecake onto her already heaping plate. "How can you eat like that and still stay skinny?"

"It's 'cause of my high metabolism, 'Genta. Plus, I dance a lot!"

"If by 'dancing' you mean 'spinning around in circles for no apparent reason', then yes, you do dance a lot," Caitlin affirmed, daintily picking at her own dessert. Glancing up, the princess narrowed her eyes as the corners of her mouth twitched into a slight frown. "And I think you've had enough sugar for one day, Dahlia."

"Nuh uh, no way, Cait! I'm just getting started!" The Arcade Star protectively pulled her plate closer. "Hey, Shorton, pass the pudding."

Thorton frowned. "According to my calculations, there is a _negative ninety-eight_ percent chance of that happening. You've already eaten enough sugar to make even a _Munchlax_ sick."

"Gimme the pudding!"

"No."

By this point, the other Brains, plus Cynthia, had paused in any previous activity and were now watching the quarrel with raised eyebrows. Dahlia's eye was twitching (a clear danger sign) and, suddenly and without warning, she _lunged_ across the table, her grip closing on the ornate, ceramic pudding dish. Never one for backing down from a challenge, Thorton grabbed the other end of it and pulled. The ensuing session of tug-of-war prompted Palmer to bury his head in his hands, mortified.

"Kill me now," the Tower Tycoon mumbled.

Cynthia patted his arm. "Nope, sorry."

The blond man took several deep breaths in a valiant, though unsuccessful, attempt to ease the headache building in his temples. After a few seconds of this, he resurfaced from behind his hands just in time to see the Arcade Star tug with all her might, upending the pudding in the process. Needless to say, the chocolatey dessert splattered _everywhere_. Including on Thorton's analysis machine.

There was a collective gasp from every occupant of the table.

The Factory Head twitched. "Oh, now you've done it!" As if his normally calm demeanor meant nothing, the boy jumped up and grabbed a platter of croissants, hurling them in the black-haired woman's direction as if they were missiles. Dahlia, ducking under the assault of flying pastries, cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed, "_FOOD FIGHT!_"

And, all at once, the situation erupted into chaos:

"How uncouth!" the Castle princess spat, ducking behind her butler as if he were a human shield. She let out a shriek as one of Thorton's croissants flew past her head, narrowly missing her. "You idiots, look at what you're doing to my restaurant! Darach, eliminate them!" she howled. The man leapt up and managed a hasty "Yes, Lady Caitlin!" before immediately being pelted by a barrage of custard eclairs, courtesy of Dahlia.

Argenta had somehow received a faceful of Thorton's abandoned glass of water, and her makeup and lipstick were running down her face like purple war paint. She grabbed a nearby spoon and peered at her reflection, gasped in horror, and then hid her face behind her hands, screaming, "No, no, don't look at me!_ Don't look at me!_"

Thorton, apparently having exhausted his croissant supply, had seized a plate of cookies and was flinging them like miniature frisbees, his half-lidded eyes burning with uncharacteristic rage.

And, to complete the craziness, Dahlia was now dancing like a mad woman on top of the table.

Cynthia took a sip of her wine and glanced over at Palmer, the latter looking as though he wanted nothing more than to drown himself in his own beverage. "Um, shouldn't we do something?" she asked after a short pause.

"How about we slap all of them senseless?"

The Champion shot the blond man a perturbed look. "You know, it kind of disturbs me how prompt you were with that response."

"Yeah, well, let's just say it's crossed my mind on more than one occasion..." The Tower Tycoon's expression suddenly became one of alarm. "For the love of Arceus, Dahlia, _put that cake down_!"

The Arcade Star stuck out her tongue and continued to hoist the main dessert, the massive chocolate cake, over her head while still twirling around like a sugar-high Spinda. As luck would have it, it was only a mere five seconds later that the black-haired woman's foot landed in the slippery mess of pudding spilled all over the tablecloth, causing her to wobble and overbalance unsteadily. With a startled cry, the female Frontier Brain suddenly _slipped_, flinging the cake high into the air.

And it was heading straight for Cynthia.

Palmer saw his life flash before his eyes (or at least his job and reputation, that is). Seemingly in slow motion, he felt himself _diving_ through the air, arms outspread in a desperate attempt to save the woman from an ugly, chocolatey demise. And, as luck would have it again, the Champion did nothing more than execute a simple sidestep to her left. The cake missed her completely.

The Frontier Brain leader was not so lucky. The dessert landed directly on his head and, suddenly, the world seemed to be made of nothing but _chocolate_. All activity in the room instantly ceased:

Thorton paused in mid-throw, the cookie in his hand crumbling as his eyes widened in disbelief.

Caitlin warily poked her head out from where she was hiding under the table.

Darach paused in the process of wiping bits of eclair off his face.

Argenta peeked out from behind her mascara-stained fingers.

And Dahlia, still unceremoniously standing on the table, clapped her hands over her mouth in shock.

Palmer shook his head furiously, shaking bits of cake and frosting out of his hair and scattering crumbs onto the rich carpet. A hand was offered to him and he took it, allowing the Champion to pull him to his feet. He swallowed dry and forced himself to meet the woman's eyes, his shoulders sagging and a sick, sinking feeling of despair in his stomach. "I... I am so sorry about this. The whole evening's been a complete disaster," he finally managed, eyes downcast. To his surprise, Cynthia offered him a smile, waving away the apology.

Oh, don't be," she soothed. "This is the most fun I've had in a long time."

**

* * *

**

**The moral of the story? Don't take Dahlia's pudding. :D**

**Also, I swear Flint is some sort of Ronald McDonald clone. Seriously. xD  
**


	6. Camping, Clouds, Movies, And Makeovers

** ShadowDragonAmor's request, in which the Frontier Dorks take a little break from their duties but find things to be a lot less relaxing than they'd hoped. Part two will be coming soon. :D**

** Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.**

* * *

"So, Argenta." The Tower Tycoon stretched his long limbs, yawning, and took a huge gulp from the steaming cup of coffee in his hand. "Listen, I've been thinking lately..."

"Thinking? _You_?" His magenta-haired coworker's reply was clearly lighthearted, but Palmer still set his beverage down with a scowl. "That's not funny," he grumbled, annoyed. "I do _too_ think. Hell, where d'you think my son gets his smarts from?"

Argenta tapped her chin in contemplation. "Your son?"

"Blond hair, orange and white striped shirt, has an Empoleon. He was at the Frontier just a few days ago. Surely you must have seen him?"

"Now that you mention it, a boy of that description _did_ come to challenge the Hall..."

"And?" Palmer puffed up his chest proudly.

"Well, I seem to recall him struggling to enter the facility for a full ten minutes, before one of my assistants informed him that the door was a 'push' and not a 'pull.'"

The blond man sank back into his chair, looking deflated. "Th-that's beside the point!" he sputtered defensively. "Anyway, I was thinking that we should all take a little break from Frontier duties. Just a day or two, to relax and do something fun, y'know?" The Hall Matron perked up.

"Like, say, a slumber party?" the woman asked eagerly. "We could all get a spa treatment, do makeovers on each other, watch movies with popcorn..."

Palmer pulled a face, and Argenta flashed him an amused grin. "Oh, don't be so dense!" she tittered excitedly. "I was talking about for Caitlin and Dahlia and me. You can take the guys and do whatever _manly_ activities you see fit, like having a beer-drinking contest or something."

"Mmm. Nice idea, but no. First, the fact that Thorton is underage and Darach is a damn lightweight could prove to be a problem. Besides, I've got a better idea."

"Oh?" The magenta-haired female tilted her head to one side questioningly.

"Yeah—camping! Think about it, there's a nice little forested area right outside the Fight Area that's perfect for hiking, fishing..."

"...Miserable downpours of rain, poison ivy, raging swarms of Zubat," Argenta added helpfully. The Tower Tycoon contented himself with shooting her an irritated glare. "That's confidence-inspiring," he snapped. His female coworker smiled.

"I'm just saying."

* * *

Dahlia raised her hand. "'Genta, you have chocolate, right?" she asked innocently. The Hall Matron sighed.

"Yes, Dahlia," she said, "I have chocolate."

"Well, I'm all set, then! Slumber party, fun! Fun, fun, _lots_ of fun!" The Arcade Star did a twirly little dance and pounced on the princess standing to her left. "We've got so much great stuff planned, I don't even know what to do first! How 'bout a makeover? What do you think, Cait?"

"I think _I'd_ like to go back to the Castle."

"What? Aw, Cait, don't be such a party pooper. When's the last time you did something fun?"

"'Cowering in terror while Dahlia goes on a sugar-induced rampage' is not my idea of fun, you know."

The black-haired Frontier Brain pouted. "Wimp."

"Look," Caitlin sniffed, "I think this whole idea is a disaster waiting to happen. For the boys, too. I mean, _camping_ of all things? I'm not sure how _that's_ supposed to work out, given that Palmer's sense of direction is so bad he can't navigate his way out of a paper sack, Thorton is completely reliant on technology, and Darach has that weird dirt phobia."

Argenta blinked, her arms full of different soaps, perfumes, and hair-care products. "Caitlin, I think you just made a joke," she said in a serious tone. "Did it hurt?"

"Oh, shut up." The girl picked up a bottle at random and glanced at the label. Her eyebrows rose as her lips twitched into a frown. "Argenta, the label on this shampoo says it's made out of mud," she stated.

"Hey, I'd almost forgotten about that stuff!" The Hall Matron swooped over and plucked the container from Caitlin's hand. "I ordered this from a special store out in Hoenn. It uses volcanic soil and spring water from Lavaridge Town as its key ingredients, which makes the final product rich in vitamins and nutrients. It's a pity they don't sell any in Sinnoh, though—it cost a fortune just to ship over this one dinky little bottle..."

"So, it's basically _dirt_ shampoo." The princess had a look of utter defeat on her face. "Gee, that gets a gold star in my book."

"Well, technically, it's _volcanic soil_."

"No matter how many fancy titles you attach to it, it's still made out of _dirt_. And not to cause any offense, Argenta, but no way in a million years am I getting that stuff anywhere near my hair."

The purple-haired woman deflated. "It smells like chocolate," she offered finally, after a few moments. Dahlia, who had been quietly watching most of the exchange with an amused expression on her face, suddenly snapped to attention.

"Chocolate?" The Arcade Star grinned and outstretched her hand expectantly. "I'll try it, 'Genta! Gimme, gimme!" Argenta sighed and protectively held the shampoo out of reach.

In the back of her mind, she wondered how Palmer and his group were doing.

* * *

The Tower Tycoon groaned and slapped his forehead with somewhat excessive force. "Darach," he finally managed to grind out, "you _are_ aware that it is pointless to try to sweep an outdoor campsite, aren't you?" The younger man winced, the broom falling from his hands and landing on the ground with a clatter, and damn if he didn't look ashamed.

"I know. I'm sorry," the butler said meekly. "Everything's just so _unclean_."

"We're outside, of course it's not going to be all sparkly and sanitized. But it's not gonna kill you to take a break and relax a bit. Just hold your breath and count to a million or something." Palmer heaved a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Where did Thorton go, anyway?"

"Oh... I think he went that way, but..." Darach's hand was inching toward the broom again, prompting the Frontier Brain leader to snatch it up and snap the handle cleanly in two with his knee. The Castle Valet looked stricken.

"Palmer, was that really necessary?" The Factory Head's voice, as the teen returned to the little campsite, was disapproving. His analysis machine was, as always, clutched securely in his hand, which made the blond man cross his arms in clear annoyance.

"Yup. And nice of you to finally join us." The Tower Tycoon gestured at the boy's Vs. Recorder-like gizmo with an impatient hand. "Put that thing away, will you? We're here to enjoy the great outdoors, not to sit around watching you analyze mushrooms growing on the damn trees."

Thorton rolled his eyes. "Sorry to disappoint, but mushrooms don't fascinate me in the slightest," he retorted. "But this is interesting. If I stand right here—" he climbed onto a boulder-like rock protruding from the ground, "—then I can get one bar of signal on my phone."

"Great. We should call Argenta and see if her refrigerator is running." Palmer threw his arms up in a sarcastic display of celebration. "C'mon, we're here to have _fun_. So let's do something more entertaining than just sitting around arguing with each other. Something like... er..." he racked his brains desperately. "...cloud watching!"

This brilliant idea earned the Tower Tycoon two confused stares, but he still trudged on, plopping down onto the grass and pointing up at the sky. "Y'know, cloud watching? People do this kind of stuff all the time on nice days like these. See, that one over there," he waved a gloved hand at the roundish cloud directly above him, "looks kinda like a Jigglypuff... getting eaten by a... uh, Snorlax. Yeah."

Silence.

Palmer rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Er... What do you guys see?"

Thorton rubbed his chin, as if contemplating. "Well..." the teen began seriously, "I'm no expert in meteorology, but I _think_ that's a cloud. Wait—" he squinted his eyes dramatically. "Yeah, I was right. It's a cloud. Master detective Thorton strikes again."

The blond groaned, tugging fistfuls of his own hair. "Try again, Shorton."

The Factory Head shrugged his shoulders, glancing up once more. "Oh look, it's the sky," he deadpanned. "And there's another cloud. And I'm the king of the obvious."

"Enough!" Palmer snapped. "Darach?"

"Me? Well..." The butler tipped his head to one side in thought. "That one seems to bear a resemblance to Lady Caitlin."

"Huh, really." The Tower Tycoon pointed up at another cloud at random, feeling somewhat desperate to keep the conversation from dying. "What about that one?"

"Lady Caitlin."

Palmer's eye twitched. "And that one?"

"Lady Caitlin as well."

The blond ground his teeth together in an effort not to wring someone's neck. "What about that cloud up there? No wait, let me guess—Lady Caitlin."

"Oh..." Darach's shoulders slumped doubtfully. "You really think so? I thought _that_ one looked more like a Psyduck to me." His eyebrows knit in concern. "Are you alright, Palmer? You look like you have a headache."

Palmer managed a rather pained smile. "You have _no_ idea."

* * *

It was, in retrospect, a _bad_ idea to provide Dahlia with access to mass quantities of sugary foods. Not only was the Arcade Star practically _bouncing_ off the walls, but she was also even more difficult to reason with than normal. And so, after a few hours of makeovers and spa treatments, the black-haired woman got it in her head that a slumber party was not a slumber party if it didn't include a movie marathon. Not that the other two Brains had any problem with movies or anything—but Dahlia, for whatever reason, had her heart set on Argenta's stack of _horror_ films.

"There you are, Cait!" the hyperactive female cheered when the Castle princess stumbled back into the room, almost tripping over the mess of sleeping bags, pillows, and snack dishes strewn on the floor. "You made it just in time! Which movie should we watch first? There's this one—" she held up a case with a picture of several demonic-looking Ghost Pokémon, "—or maybe we could start with _this_ one here, if you want." She indicated a movie displaying what looked like a giant Sharpedo. Caitlin wrinkled her nose.

"Ugh," the girl muttered, "can't we watch something else?"

"Oh..." Dahlia seemed to wilt in disappointment. "Sorry, Cait, I forgot you're younger than us. These are probably too scary for you, right?"

"Wh-what? You must be joking, I'm not scared of those m-movies!"

Argenta patted the princess on the back. "Good for you, Caitlin," the Hall Matron chuckled. "You might want to lose the death-grip you have on that pillow, though."

"Shut up!" The girl crossed her arms in clear defiance. "I'm not scared! Go ahead and play them!"

This was, in retrospect, also a _bad_ idea.

When the Hall Matron shakily turned off the television several tense hours later, she found herself practically collapsing onto her sleeping bag in exhaustion. She didn't have a watch but could see through the nearest window that it was pitch black outside—she guessed that it must be well past midnight, at the very least. The magenta-haired woman yawned, stretching her arms over her head, and prodded at the shivering lump under the blankets she thought was Caitlin. "You awake still?"

A pause. Then the girl peeked out, eyes wide. "...Is it over y-yet?"

"Mmm hmm. Dahlia?"

"Right here!" The Arcade Star sat up in her own sleeping bag, a wide grin on her face. "Man, that scared the crap out of me! Especially in the last scene, where the girl's just walking through the cave..."

"Dahlia..." Caitlin murmured. Her green eyes darted every which way, mouth set in a frown.

"...and then the Gengar appears right behind her! Pow!"

"Dahlia."

"The blood seemed kinda fake though. It almost looked like strawberry syrup or something, y'know?"

"Dahlia!"

"Strawberry syrup... Say, 'Genta, you don't happen to have any, do you? Or maybe some ice cream, or—"

"DAHLIA!"

The black-haired woman groaned, sticking a finger in her ear with a grimace. "Geez, you're gonna pop my eardrums if you keep hollering like that, Caitlin. What's wrong?"

"I..." The girl bit her lip, hugging the pillow in her arms so tightly that her knuckles were white. "I think... I think I heard s-something..."

A pause. Then, Dahlia burst out laughing. "Oh, nice try, Cait!"

"I'm serious!"

"Yeah?" The Arcade Star crossed her arms stubbornly. "Well, _I_ don't hear anything—"

_Creeeeeeeeeeaaaaak..._

Another pause. Then—

"Okay, so I _do_ hear something. 'Genta, does the Hall usually do this at night?"

The Hall Matron frowned. "I'm not sure, to be honest. I'm usually asleep at this hour, but..."

_Creeeeeeeeeeaaaaak..._

Caitlin squeaked and dove under the blankets again. Dahlia froze, looking unnerved. And Argenta bit her lip, feeling a little uneasy herself.

It was going to be a _long_ night...

* * *

A few miles away, in the forest-like outskirts of the Fight Area, a similar thought raced through Palmer's mind. However, in stark contrast, the Tower Tycoon and his coworkers weren't preoccupied with fighting off hordes of imaginary Gengar or bloodthirsty Sharpedo, oh no. The three Brains were currently face-to-face with a family of very real and very _angry_ Ursaring. The Frontier Brain leader, standing in middle of the grassy campsite in his pajamas, let out a heavy breath.

"Well, crap."


	7. Stuck In The Storm

**SoulSilver is addicting. :D **

**You know who reminds me of Thorton? Death the Kid, from Soul Eater. I have no idea why. Maybe it's the weird, sleepy eyes. :P**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.**

* * *

Raising one hand to shield his head from the steady downpour falling from the inky storm clouds above, Thorton let out a forlorn sigh. He then turned to the blond-haired Frontier Brain sitting next to him. "You know, Palmer," the Factory Head began after a short moment, "when I first met you, I thought you were an idiotic moron with the mental capacity of a Slowpoke. But now, since we're about to die and all..." He trailed off into silence, looking thoughtful.

The Tower Tycoon's heart swelled in pride. He waited for the boy to praise his fantastic leadership skills, or say that he was the greatest battler he'd ever known, or countless other well-deserved compliments... but, strangely, the Factory Head didn't continue.

"...Uh, you were saying?" Palmer finally prodded, after an agonizing silence. Thorton looked up and blinked.

"Oh, well, I was just going to say that I _still_ think you're an idiotic moron with the mental capacity of a Slowpoke."

"Damn you, Thorton!" The heartbreaking moment shattered, and Palmer lapsed into a loud tirade of angry swearing. Then, trying to salvage the situation, he said in a falsely optimistic voice, "Well, er, at least we're safe up here. I mean, things could be a whole lot worse, right?"

Darach sighed. "Palmer, we are hiding in a _tree_," he said delicately, "in the rain, and with half a dozen angry Ursaring below. I really don't think things could get much worse." The Castle Valet hesitated, then added apologetically, "And you'll have to forgive me for being so rude, but this whole situation _is _your fault to begin with."

"Oh, yeah, don't worry—that doesn't offend me at all."

"It _is_ true, though," Thorton spoke up, and his tone of voice suggested that he was talking to a stubborn child rather than a coworker. "For Rayquaza's sake, you kicked the Ursaring leader in the face! It's no wonder it was so mad—"

"It was in my tent! Not to mention the fact that it was so dark out, I could hardly _see_ anything," Palmer protested violently, causing the branch the three Brains were sitting on to wobble dangerously. "I heard something rifling through my bag and thought you guys were trying to steal my candy bars while I was sleeping."

"And your first thought was to react with violence? What if it actually _had_ been one of us?"

The Frontier Brain leader opened his mouth and then promptly closed it, giving him the overall appearance of a beached Magikarp. "They're _my_ candy bars," he weakly offered. There was a short, disbelieving pause as the Tower Tycoon's words sunk in.

"Clearly, you've taken on a few of Miss Dahlia's bad habits, Palmer," Darach said at last, breaking the mortified silence. "Please do your best not to corrupt Lady Caitlin."

Rolling his eyes, Thorton added unnecessarily, "After all, your idiocy could very well be contagious."

"That's enough, you two! I get it, okay?" The branch wobbled again, and one of the pacing Ursaring below looked up with a low growl. "Look," Palmer ground out, breathing heavily, "how about we come up with a _plan_ instead of talking about how stupid I apparently am?"

"Because insulting you is a whole lot easier," the Factory Head answered promptly. Then, when the blond man looked to be on the verge of throwing an angry fit, the boy quickly added, "Well, we did manage to save our bags, for a start. An inventory check would be a good first step. Maybe one of us has something useful." He pulled his backpack off his shoulders and set it on his lap, unzipping the main pocket:

Thorton's bag yielded his analysis machine, a jar of potent-looking hair gel, an uncompleted jigsaw puzzle, two packs of gum, a stapler, six pencils, a harmonica, and a book titled, 'How To Survive With An Idiotic Boss.'

Darach's bag, on the other hand, contained three cans of disinfectant spray, a fancy gold pocket watch, two bottles of aspirin, a feather duster, an extra pair of glasses, a book on coping with OCD, and a lovingly framed picture of Caitlin.

Palmer fumed. "Why," he thundered, "did you two feel the need to bring along all this useless _crap_?"

Thorton crossed his arms and glared right back. "It's not useless!" he argued stubbornly. "Besides, you didn't show us what's in _your_ bag, Blockhead Tycoon." He reached over and yanked away the Frontier Brain leader's backpack, but the blond held fast, pulling back. "Hand it over, Palmer," the Factory Head snapped impatiently.

"No! Just give it back—there's nothing in it, I swear!"

"Give it to me!"

"Make me, _Shorty_!"

This went on for almost an entire minute before Darach, glancing back and forth at the tug-of-war session warily, spoke up. "Um," the Castle Valet said meekly, "why don't you just... give the bag to him, Palmer? This branch doesn't seem very—"

_Snap!_

"—stable," the butler finished, with a pained groan. "My clothes are all muddy now," he lamented sadly, pushing himself up from the ground and looking as though he wanted to cry. Palmer, lying listlessly a few feet away, flashed the other man a rude hand gesture. "Ha, you think _you_ feel like shit?" the Tower Tycoon laughed, rather humorlessly. "I've got a twig the size of Arceus sticking up my—"

The Frontier Brain leader's complaints were then interrupted by a sudden exclamation from Thorton who, having finally gained possession of the blond's backpack, was holding something in his hand with an expression of disbelief in his half-lidded eyes. "Palmer..." the teen said slowly, "why do you have a stuffed Piplup in your bag?"

Silence.

The Tower Tycoon's eye twitched dangerously. "Give Mr. Pippy back," he growled. "Now. Or else I'll—"

"Ha, there's a zero percent chance of _that_ happening. Just you wait until I tell the others that our great leader has a soft spot for Poké Dolls!"

Palmer clenched his jaw and drew a fist back. "Say goodbye to those pretty teeth, Shorton."

Fortunately, Darach interrupted before the Factory Head had a chance to retaliate. "Forgive me for cutting in," he said pleadingly, "but the Ursaring—"

"Not now, Darach. Thorton and I are in the middle of a very important conversation." The blond man had the teen in a painful-looking headlock, grinning manically. "Hand over Mr. Pippy," he panted, mashing his knuckles against the boy's scalp. The younger Brain struggled a bit, unsuccessfully attempting to elbow his assailant in the eye, and then relinquished his hold on the stuffed Piplup, defeated.

"Palmer," the teen grumbled once he was free, rubbing his neck, "you have terrible B.O. Haven't you ever heard of deodorant?"

"Shut it." The Frontier Brain Leader tucked the Poké Doll safely under his arm. "Er, now what were you saying, Darach?"

"I was saying—" the butler began timidly, but his words were cut off quite abruptly as one of the long-forgotten Ursaring let out a angry roar, scuffing at the ground with its claws. "—I was saying it would probably be a good idea for us to _run_ right about now!" he finished frantically. Several of the bear-like Pokémon, eyes glowing with mingled curiosity and aggression, were inching toward the three Brains, seemingly unbothered by the dark, stormy weather, and Palmer took an uncertain step backwards. Nervously, the Tower Tycoon drew a deep breath.

"Great idea," he chuckled lamely. "In fact, that's pretty much the best idea I've heard all day." The blond turned and ran, his two coworkers mimicking his actions, and, roaring loudly, the Ursaring gave chase.

* * *

"Just so you know, Caitlin... When I die, I want my tombstone to be made out of solid chocolate. The _good_ chocolate, too, none of that cheap, waxy, crap chocolate." Dahlia paused in mid-thought, pondering. "And the epitaph can read, _'Here lies Dahlia, the one and only Arcade Star. Tragically kicked the proverbial bucket after watching too many scary movies.'_" Clearly immersed in a wonderful fantasy of sugary grave markers, the black-haired woman lapsed into content silence. The Castle princess, on the other hand, glared at her coworker through the darkness.

"I'm glad," she snapped icily, "that you seem to find the situation so amusing." It actually would have been quite intimidating if the girl hadn't been anxiously dancing on her tip-toes, eyes darting every which way and jumping at the slightest sound. "Argenta," she continued in a slightly higher-pitched voice, "have you f-found a flashlight yet?"

"Still looking!" In the dark, the Hall Matron rummaged through closets, crates, and boxes with a slightly frenzied urgency. "Ugh, it's so ironic that as soon as we have a power failure, the emergency flashlight's nowhere to be found..."

"Hey! Hey, I found it, 'Genta!" The sudden exclamation came from Dahlia and the Hall Matron, caught off-guard, jumped in surprise and ended up smacking her head on the cupboard she was submerged in. "You found the flashlight?" the magenta-haired woman called, holding back a pained groan as she rubbed her throbbing forehead. Through the nonexistent lighting conditions, she could just barely make out the frames of her two coworkers. The blurry figure she assumed was Dahlia was jumping about excitedly.

"Yeah, it's right here! I—oh, wait." The Arcade Star's shoulders slumped. "Uh... false alarm, 'Genta, it's a bottle of shampoo. Never mind." The black-haired Frontier Brain sounded crushed.

Fortunately, Caitlin piped up before Argenta had a chance to bury her head in her hands and sob, holding out something in her outstretched hand. "What about this? I think it was sitting by your incense garden. It's a... kitchen lighter?" The princess fumbled around with the object for a moment, before flipping the trigger with a small _click_. The room was suddenly illuminated by a tiny fire flickering at the lighter's end.

"Great idea, Cait!" Dahlia cheered, scrambling over to stare at the happy little flame, mesmerized. "We can BURN something!" She made a swipe for the lighter, but the Hall Matron grabbed it from Caitlin's hand first.

"Dahlia, you can go ahead and incinerate your _own_ facility, but leave mine out of it," Argenta said firmly.

"But I'm trying to save us, 'Genta," the black-haired woman protested hysterically, lunging for the lighter again. "Do you know nothing about horror movies? This building is cursed! Fire is the only way to exorcise the demons!" She collapsed onto the nearest sleeping bag, staring up at the ceiling and waving her hands around wildly. "I can sense them now, hiding in the shadows! The ghosts are hungry... They want to feast on our _brains_!"

"Dahlia..." Argenta sighed exasperatedly. A quiet buzzing sound suddenly sounded from somewhere in the room, and the magenta-haired woman blinked, patting her pockets. "It's my cell phone... Damn, does anyone see it?" She wandered through the room, peering under the sleeping bags and behind the plush couch in front of the television. Finally, she found the little electronic device hiding beneath an empty snack bowl.

"Don't answer it, Argenta," the Arcade Star urged, eyes wide. "The ghosts are on the other end, waiting for you to receive their call. They'll try to suck out your soul if you answer them!"

"No, they're not. You're just hallucinating after putting too much sugar in your system." Pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance, the older woman flipped open her phone, putting it up to her ear. "Hello..?"

The voice on the other end was garbled, unrecognizable through the static. "_Argen... this is... trapped an... ome help, becau... trying to run—_"

_ Beep._

The phone went dead and fell from the Hall Matron's hand, and Caitlin clapped her hands over her mouth, face pale. Dahlia drew a slow, foreboding breath.

"It's the ghosts," she whispered. "They've marked us as their next _victims_!"

* * *

"Did you get ahold of Argenta?" Palmer gasped, his heart pounding against his chest. They had made it back to the Battle Frontier, thankfully escaping the group of Ursaring with nothing more serious than a few cuts and scratches, one or two missing shoes, and a certain degree of permanent mental scarring. Thorton tucked his analysis machine back into his pocket with a sigh, sinking down to the ground in exhaustion. He shot the Tower Tycoon an annoyed look.

"Do you know how hard it is to dial and run for your life at the same time?" he snapped irritably. "Yes, I talked to her." The boy hesitated. "Well, I _think_ I did, at least. The signal was so weak, I'm not sure if I even got through to her at all."

If Palmer was disappointed, he did little to show it. The blond man puffed up his chest, forcing himself to stand tall and attempting to regain some semblance of _control_ over the situation, plastering a wide grin on his face. "Well, at any rate, we made it out of there alive! Not bad, huh?"

The other two didn't seem to share his, albeit fake, enthusiasm. Darach, rubbing his ankle, turned to face the Frontier Brain leader with a grimace. "No amount of therapy will ever make these past few hours okay," he said bluntly.

"Oh, quit complaining." Squinting through the darkness, the Tower Tycoon trudged his way to the far end of the Frontier, where the Battle Hall was situated. The flashing lights that emitted from the surrounding spotlights were absent, and the stadium-like facility, as a result, looked eerie and uninviting. The blond prodded at one of the lights with his foot. "Power's out," he grumbled. The man raised a hand to the keypad attached to the door to punch in the passcode, but Darach walked up and shook his head.

"I'm afraid that's not going to work," the Castle Valet explained reluctantly. "Not in the middle of a power failure, at least."

Palmer looked around desperately. "Doesn't Argenta keep a spare key around?"

"She _used_ to," Thorton interjected helpfully, "but your Rhyperior ate it, remember?" The older man let out a groan.

"I thought it was funny at the time," he mumbled, tugging fistfuls of his blond hair. "Not anymore." Biting his lip, the Tower Tycoon sank into a depressive silence. Then, suddenly, his head shot up in inspiration. "Thorton..." he said slowly, "how much do you know about breaking and entering?"

A tiny smile flickered across the Factory Head's mouth. "Well, I _did_ help design these buildings," the boy began, a mischievous glint entering his half-lidded eyes. "So I daresay I know more than the average person."

"Great." The Frontier Brain leader cracked his knuckles and grinned widely. "I'd say it's time for Plan B."

* * *

**I smell chaos approaching... D:**


	8. A Bad Plan Times Two

**A big thank you to everyone reading this story! Here, we finally have the conclusion to the Frontier Dorks' very (unrelaxing) vacation. Next is a Dahlia-centric chapter, followed by a Thorton-centric one for Nellchan0013. :D  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.**

* * *

After several strenuous minutes of climbing up the imposing walls of the tent-like Battle Hall, Palmer finally hoisted himself up onto one of the facility's overhanging balconies and collapsed onto the floor in exhaustion. "Never again," he panted, lying face-down on his stomach listlessly. "I'm getting too old for this kind of thing..." The blond tugged off his backpack and pulled out the stuffed Piplup, holding it out in front of himself. "You doing okay, Mr. Pippy?"

"You know," Thorton's voice cut in irritatedly, "it would be great if you could be over here _helping_ us instead of talking to that stupid Poké Doll." The Tower Tycoon turned his head to face his two coworkers, who were poring over the tall glass door that connected the balcony to the Hall's interior. With a grunt, Palmer pushed himself up to his feet and shuffled over, scowling. "Even if you're upset, Shorton, it still doesn't make it okay to take it all out on Mr. Pippy. He hasn't done anything wrong," he retaliated belligerently. Darach shot the blond man a look of concern.

"...Palmer, are you okay? You're acting rather odd," the butler stated in a blunt, though worried, tone. "Try taking a few deep breaths—that always helps calm Lady Caitlin down." He paused. "Well, _most _of the time it helps. Sometimes she just ends up throwing things at me."

"Fascinating." Palmer rolled his eyes and fixed his gaze back on the glass door. "So, what's the deal? Can we get it open or not?"

Thorton shrugged and tested the handle, which didn't budge. Humming to himself, the teen stepped back and crossed his arms with a thoughtful expression, frowning slightly. Never known for being particularly patient, the Frontier Brain leader clicked his tongue and ground his teeth together in irritation. "Well?" he prodded, scratching his damp, yellow hair, clearly annoyed.

The Factory Head paused, then said rather unnecessarily, "It seems to be locked."

"I can see that," the blond man answered, with a dangerous twitch developing in his right eye. He shot his younger coworker a glare. "Isn't there something you can do about it?"

"Well, there's probably an eighty-four percent chance that I can successfully pick the lock... but I'd need a paperclip. Do either of you have one?" The boy received two responses in the negative, and his frown deepened. "Any long, straight piece of wire will do. It just needs to be able to fit in the keyhole."

Palmer slammed his fist against the floor. "Well, damn, I've got nothing. Unless..." A look of manic inspiration suddenly spread across the blond's face. Grinning, he held an expectant hand out to the Castle Valet. "Darach, glasses."

The younger man blinked. "...Pardon?" He then stepped back in shock as the Tower Tycoon reached over and swiped the aforementioned eyewear off his nose. Brow furrowed in concentration, the blond tugged and bent at the delicate metal frames until they were reasonably straight, then handed them over to Thorton. The butler's purple eyes flashed with a mixture of horror and uncharacteristic resentment. "Palmer," he managed in an admirably civil voice, "what did you do _that _for?"

"Lighten up a bit, at least now we'll have a shot at getting the door open. Besides, I thought you had an extra pair with you."

"...They fell out of my bag when we were running away from the Ursaring." Darach let out a sigh and his body slumped as if all the fight had suddenly left him. Palmer patted his shoulder awkwardly. "Uh... Sorry about that, then." Perhaps looking for a distraction to lighten the situation, the Frontier Brain leader turned his head to face the teenaged boy still situated in front of the glass door. "Er, are you having any luck over there, Thorton?"

A satisfying click when the Factory Head turned the handle was his answer, and the boy grinned smugly as he pushed open the door with a low creak. "Looks like we're in," he said, looking very pleased with himself. "Now all we have to do is find the others."

* * *

Argenta led the way as the three female Brains tiptoed through the darkened rooms of her facility. The magenta-haired woman, holding out her kitchen lighter in one hand to illuminate their path, glanced back and met Dahlia's gaze. "I still think we're overreacting here," the older woman stated, before rubbing her eyes tiredly. "I mean, that phone call _was _a bit creepy, but it could have easily been a coincidence. Maybe we're all just spooked from all those movies and letting our imaginations get the best of us..."

"That's exactly what the ghosts _want _you to think, 'Genta!" the Arcade Star broke in shrilly. "They'll try to lull us into a false sense of security before they strike. We'll be doomed if we give in now!" She spun around wildly while waving her arms. Caitlin ducked under the flailing limbs just in time to avoid getting smacked in the face. "I'm with Argenta on this one, Dahlia," the princess began, though she didn't sound as certain as she probably would have liked. "After all, they _were_ just movies—"

_CRASH!_

The sudden, deafening impact of something shattering on the floor echoed through the entire Battle Hall, and all three females jumped in shock. The Castle princess, her face paling to a shade of stark white, sank to her knees with a horrified cry. "I want to go home!" she whimpered. "I want to go home and I want Darach to be here with me... and if you ever tell him I said that, I swear I'll hurt you, Dahlia." Finally calming down a bit, the girl peeked out from behind her hands, trembling. "What made that noise anyway..?"

"I think it came from upstairs," the Hall Matron slowly replied. The woman nibbled at her nails anxiously. "It... well, it could have just been a vase tipping over. I probably left a window open and the wind could have blown something off a shelf..." The magenta-haired female's ramblings faded into silence, and it was painfully clear that she wasn't at all convinced in what she was saying. The black-haired Arcade Star set her jaw and placed her hands on her hips in determination.

"That crash was the evil spirits taunting us!" the hyperactive female growled. She cracked her knuckles, face set in resolve. "I bet they're stalking us now, from the shadows. Our only shot is to attack them first!" Dahlia turned to face her two coworkers, crossing her arms. "Well?" she ventured. "Are you two thinking what I'm thinking?"

"It depresses me, but yeah, we probably are," the young princess replied. She was wringing her hands nervously as she fixed her green eyes on Dahlia's. Grimly, she pulled a face and asked, "Preemptive attack?"

"Right. First, we'll need to find where the ghosts are hiding. Then—we ambush them before they know what's hit them!"

Argenta groaned. "I really think this is a bad idea, you two..."

"What, you think we should just sit around like sitting Psyducks? C'mon, 'Genta, we can't do this without you!"

"I..." The Hall Matron bit her lip and shook her head, defeated. "Okay, Dahlia, I trust you. Just... lead the way, then."

"Great! Let's go!" The Arcade Star let out a cheer and marched away, and her two coworkers, glancing at each other wearily, had no choice but to follow.

* * *

Palmer clumsily hopped over the jagged shards of broken pottery on the floor and offered the Castle Valet a hand. "Just so you know, Darach, this is coming out of _your _paycheck, not mine." He gestured down at what had only a few moments ago been one of the Hall Matron's prized artisan vases, before continuing, "Argenta's going to kill you for breaking that, you know how protective she is about all this artsy-fartsy crap she collects."

Allowing the Tower Tycoon to pull him back to his feet, the butler shook his head and heaved a sigh of frustration. "I apologize, Palmer, but I really can't see much of _anything_ without my glasses." He swept a hand out as if to emphasize his point and, in the process, nearly poked Thorton in the eye. The teen, having just returned to the room, ducked away just in time and then turned to face his coworkers, holding out his analysis machine to light their surroundings. "Be careful, both of you," he chided, mouth twitching.

Palmer rolled his eyes. "Nice to see you, too, Thorton. Did you find anyone?"

"There doesn't seem to be any sign at all of Argenta and the others. Not on _this _floor, at least."

"Maybe you just didn't look carefully enough. What do you think, Mr. Pippy?" The Poké Doll, unsurprisingly, failed to respond. The Factory Head slapped his forehead angrily.

"Put that idiotic thing away, Blockhead Tycoon. It's starting to make me worry about your already dwindling mental state."

"Oh, yeah? Make me, then." The blond stuck his tongue out childishly.

The teen opened his mouth to retaliate, then closed it and shook his head hopelessly. "It's official. He's lost it," the boy sighed, turning to Darach. The Castle Valet nodded in sorrowful agreement. Disheartened by the leader's apparent loss of sanity, Thorton switched off his analysis machine and the trio sank into a depressed silence.

* * *

"Psst! 'Genta, Cait, look over there!" The black-haired Arcade Star, crawling along on her stomach like some sort of secret agent, gestured wildly to her two coworkers, raising a finger to her lips. "That door," she whispered in a low voice, "is open. All the others are closed, though—maybe the ghosts are hiding in that room!" Argenta tiptoed over, closely followed by Caitlin. The older woman's eyes widened.

"That door leads to my art galleries!" she hissed. "I always, _always _keep that room shut. If it's open, then that means..."

"I'm sure of it! The ghosts must be _there._" Nodding in determination, Dahlia pointed at the kitchen lighter still gripped in the Hall Matron's shaking hands. "Turn that off, 'Genta. We can't let any light give away our position." The magenta-haired woman nervously complied, and the dimly illuminated hallway was bathed in darkness.

Dahlia took a deep breath, squinting through the shadowy atmosphere at the dim silhouettes of her two companions. "I'll go first." Inching towards the door, the Arcade Star suddenly froze. "They're coming out now!" she breathed. Narrowing her eyes, she could just barely make out the sight of three dark figures slowly creeping out, looking corporeal and oddly familiar... The woman shook her head furiously.

It was too late for second thoughts.

She clenched her jaw, steeling her nerves. It was now or never.

"_ATTACK!_" she shrieked, before leaping up and barreling into the closest shadow. It let out a startled shout and tried to shove her away. The ghost _was _solid—how strange.

...And it seemed to be yelling at her in a not-very-ghost-like voice:

"What the—Dahlia? Dahlia, is that you? Arceus damn it, it's me! It's Thorton!" the 'ghost' choked out through the female Brain's headlock. The young woman gasped, then started squeezing harder.

"You... you _ate _Thorton? Monster! I'll never forgive you!" she cried.

Although Dahlia was not dissuaded from continuing her attack, the rest of the room's occupants fell into a small silence. Caitlin's voice rang out shrilly, clearly confused. "Wait, wait, _Thorton_? Then... is that you, Darach?"

"...Lady Caitlin?"

"Argenta, if it's not too much trouble, could you please get off my head?"

"S-sorry about that, Palmer..."

Even though the other Brains had apparently calmed down a bit, the Arcade Star alone seemed to be showing no sign of releasing her victim. Clearly his only hope for freedom, Thorton, in a muffled voice, managed to voice the thought running through everyone's head after a brief moment of struggling: "I think we've all had some kind of a misunderstanding."

And, as if he'd said the magic word, the lights suddenly flickered on as electricity finally returned to the facility.

Palmer sat up with a pained groan. "Are you okay, Mr. Pippy? You didn't get hurt, did you?" he asked wearily, squinting at the stuffed Piplup through a black eye. Dahlia whipped around to face the Frontier Brain leader with a grin, all signs of aggression gone. "Is that a Poké Doll?" she questioned, already back to her usual cheerful self. "I love Poké Dolls too, Palm!" Then, glancing down, she suddenly noticed she still had Thorton in a death-grip.

"Oh, hiya, Thor!" she chirped. "So, you're really _not _a ghost, huh? What're you doing down there, anyway?"

The Factory Head, who had long since stopped fighting, was hanging there in her grip in a limp, dead sort of way, his face shoved right in her cleavage. Finally he managed to resurface, face flushed from mortification.

"If anybody want to kill me right now, feel free," he stated hollowly. He flopped onto his back, looking as though he'd seen something that would permanently scar his life. "Honestly, we don't get paid enough for this job."

* * *

**The height difference alone makes anything Dahlia/Thorton full of win. And Palmer apparently talks to Poké Dolls when he's feeling stressed. What a trooper. :D  
**


	9. Fun With The Future

** In which Dahlia takes up fortune-telling as a new hobby, and the other Brains get pulled along for the ride. Things go badly. Very, very badly. D:**

** Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.**

**

* * *

**

** TEN-THIRTY A.M. **Caitlin enters the Battle Arcade. Despite the fact that she is a princess, she is in no way sheltered from the craziness that comes with being a Frontier Brain. After seeing sights such as Argenta, her hair dyed a blinding shade of platinum blonde, chasing after Palmer with a steak knife in her hand after being the victim of one of his 'harmless' pranks, the girl feels that there is not a whole lot her coworkers can do to surprise her anymore.

Therefore, the girl doesn't even bat an eye as she soon comes face-to-face with Dahlia, dressed in vividly-colored shawls and a long, flowing dress. She doesn't bother quirking an eyebrow when she notices that the Arcade Star is sitting behind a fancy-looking little table laden with playing cards, teacups, and what looks like a _crystal ball_, of all things. And her face doesn't even shift from its usual passive expression when the black-haired woman leaps up and greets her with an overenthusiastic hug.

"Dahlia," the princess sighs. Her voice is admirably even. "I can't breath when you're squeezing the life out of me."

"Oops, sorry!" The Arcade Star loosens her grip marginally, still grinning widely. "I'm just so excited, y'know? You hardly _ever_ come to visit me, Cait. You're always cooped up in that stuffy old castle!" It's the truth—the younger Brain's visits are depressingly uncommon. Dahlia really can't imagine why.

**TEN-THIRTY-THREE A.M. **Caitlin heaves a small sigh, smoothing down any creases that might have appeared on her pink dress from her coworker's embrace. When she comments on the black-haired woman's 'interesting' appearance, Dahlia pauses in mid-spin and then whips around with a beaming expression on her face.

"You noticed!" Dahlia strikes a pose similar to the one Argenta always uses just before battling. Annoyingly, even after long hours of practicing the pose in the mirror, 'Genta somehow always managed to look cooler doing it. It really isn't fair. "How do I look, Cait?" She waits for the younger Frontier Brain to shower her with well-deserved praise.

The princess fixes the black-haired woman with a critical eye for a moment, taking in the bright gold dress, the flashy blue and red scarves...

"Well?" Dahlia prods impatiently. Caitlin's silence is beginning to feel a little insulting. "How do I look?"

"You look ridiculous." The Arcade Star feels herself deflate a bit. "Everything clashes and the colors make it look like a Milotic has exploded in here." Dahlia opens her mouth to protest but the girl's green eyes suddenly flash. This is a bad sign—it usually means Caitlin is furious about something, which in turn usually means that it would be wise to back away slowly and avoid any sudden movements.

The princess is emitting an aura that could put a Gengar to shame. "Dahlia, those are _my_ earrings you're wearing!" She points an accusing finger at the Arcade Star's earlobes, where a pair of expensive platinum rings, studded with an assortment of diamonds and pearls, are hanging. "Did you take them from my room?"

The conversation is not really going in a direction that Dahlia likes.

**TEN-THIRTY-NINE A.M. **Caitlin has calmed down to an extent that Dahlia is no longer worried about the possibility of having the earrings violently ripped from her head, though she is still shooting her black-haired coworker a glare that would make lesser Pokémon trainers duck and run for cover. As a peace offering, the Arcade Star pours her friend a cup of tea and explains her newest hobby of fortune-telling. The princess is not very impressed, much to the other's disappointment. Eager to prove her younger coworker wrong, Dahlia introduces the idea of _tasseography_—more commonly known as tea leaf reading.

**TEN-FORTY-THREE A.M. **Two ringing eardrums and one broken teacup later, Dahlia comes to the conclusion that telling Caitlin the muddled remains of the tea leaves seemed to resemble a fiery vortex of death was _not _such a good idea.

**TEN-FORTY-FOUR A.M. **As an afterthought, Dahlia also concludes that Caitlin is very protective of her jewelry and makes a mental note to ask for permission before taking anything else in the future. (The Arcade Star is very grateful that the princess did not notice the matching platinum necklace and bracelets she is also wearing.)

* * *

** TEN-FIFTY-THREE A.M. **Darach has a distressed look on his face as he wanders over to where Dahlia is seated. Then again, he _always_ looks a bit on the anxious side, so the black-haired woman doesn't think much of it. "Hiya, Dar!" she chirps with a grin. The Castle Valet doesn't respond, as his attention is focused in a bemused fashion on the Arcade Star's clothes, and then on the table she is sitting at. He finally snaps out of it and goes on a horrific sort of apologetic tangent for 'so rudely ignoring her'.

**TEN-FIFTY-SIX A.M. **Darach is still apologizing. The female Frontier Brain is starting to feel a little bit concerned.

**ELEVEN A.M. **The Castle Valet accepts a drink and meekly expresses his remorse at having scared away all the other patrons. Dahlia waves the apology away. "Ah, don't worry about it," she reassures him, in a voice one might find suitable for a policeman trying to talk a suicidal jumper away from the edge of a building. He opens his mouth and then closes it, looking hesitant at what he wants to say.

Finally, he just goes for it. "I-I passed by Lady Caitlin not too long ago, Miss Dahlia. She seemed very angry about something."

In her mind, Dahlia already has a heartfelt and sympathetic reply all thought out. What her mouth shoots off with instead is, "Gee, Darach, I really have no idea. You think maybe it's just that time of the month for her or something?" The butler looks horrified at the possibility and she pours him another drink. He doesn't immediately take it—for some reason his attention is, once again, focused on the table. Why he finds an Arceus-damned piece of furniture more interesting than an attractive girl like her is a mystery.

"Miss Dahlia," Darach states at last, frowning, "this looks an awful lot like the tablecloth that disappeared from the restaurant two hours ago."

Uh-oh.

The woman opts for a kind reply this time. "Eh, sorry about that, Dar. I really should have asked before taking it, but I didn't see you around anywhere." She supposes she could have tried shifting the blame, but the man already looks pretty down in the dumps. No sense in making him feel worse. With a cheerful smile, she practically forces another gin and tonic into his hand, even though he hasn't quite finished his second.

**ELEVEN-TWENTY-ONE A.M. **Oh, what the hell, she's bored. "Tell me about a dream you've had recently, Darach," the female Brain says thoughtfully. She reaches down and pulls out her 'dream-interpretation' tome, aka the '_Hearthome's Best Outdoor Barbecue_' cookbook she'd been loaned by her dancing buddy, Fantina. Darach doesn't answer. He looks like he's about to pass out, and the Arcade Star muses that she probably should have been mindful of the fact that he does very poorly with alcohol.

Dahlia pokes him in the shoulder, just to make sure he hasn't died or anything. Because that would create a lot of problems with Caitlin, not to mention paperwork. When he unsteadily raises his head to stare at her, she repeats her question patiently.

The Castle Valet shakes his head and mumbles something which may or may not have included the phrases 'rabid, evil Butterfrees' and 'getting strangled by Lady Caitlin's hair'.

**ELEVEN-TWENTY-NINE A.M. **After much exhausting research, the female Frontier Brain announces that Darach's dream is a sure indication that he will somehow be eaten by Palmer's Rhyperior. The butler doesn't seem to take this too well and immediately bursts into tears.

**ELEVEN-THIRTY-FOUR A.M. **Darach manages to stumble out of the Arcade, accidentally knocking over two tables and half a dozen chairs in the process. Dahlia finds herself regretfully wishing she'd gotten the whole visit recorded on video.

* * *

**TWELVE-TEN P.M. **Palmer plops down on the chair across from the Arcade Star, a frown on his face. A bad sign, to be sure. The female decides to play innocent. "Hey, Palm, what's up?" she asks brightly.

The Tower Tycoon's voice is terse. "I bumped into Darach outside," he says sternly. "Do you want to know what happened?"

No! "Yeah!"

The man's eyebrows furrow a bit, and his lips twitch. "I went over to say hi and he completely freaked out on me."

"Well, Dar kind of does that all the time anyway. What's the big deal?"

Twitch. "It was pretty damn bad."

"How so?"

"Dahlia, he was completely drunk. He was screaming something about my Rhyperior. Then he fell into the fountain and passed out."

"Huh, imagine that," the woman hums. She has to slap a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. Palmer's scowl deepens. He growls, "Well, Dahlia, what do you have to say for yourself?"

The female Brain decides to answer honestly and chirps, "I wish I had been there with a camera." Then, "Hey, wait, what do you mean by _that_, Palm? Are you saying this is my fault or something?" She pouts and places her hands on her hips at the injustice of it all. Palmer doesn't miss a beat and promptly explains that _yes_, it is her fault, and he expects her to have an apology ready for when the Castle Valet wakes up with the mother of all hangovers.

Jerk. Now she feels bad.

**TWELVE-SEVENTEEN P.M. **The Tower Tycoon asks Dahlia why her fortune-telling table, aka Palmer's favorite mahogany desk, is sitting here in the Arcade rather than at its rightful place in the Battle Tower's lobby. It looks like he is beginning to get a terrible headache. His coworker waves away the question and offers him a half-eaten cookie.

**TWELVE-TWENTY-TWO P.M. **Five minutes and six cookies later, Palmer looks to be back to his normal jovial self. Dahlia explains her awesome new skills as a fortune-teller to him, emphasizing her words with random, swirly hand gestures. The man seems quite impressed. "How about a horoscope?" he asks with a grin. "I'm a Leo, you know—charismatic and a natural leader!" He puffs up his chest proudly.

Though it pains her to admit it, the Arcade Star doesn't know a whole lot about horoscopes. Still, there is no need for Palmer to know that. She pulls out some paper and an assortment of crayons and attempts to recreate a diagram of the stars from memory.

**TWELVE-THIRTY P.M. **Perhaps it is fortunate that Palmer doesn't have the slightest clue about how horoscopes work either—otherwise he probably would be wary about how the black-haired woman's star diagram looks suspiciously like a scribbly doodle of a Blaziken. Dahlia interprets her stunning work of art as a sign that someone must be talking behind the male Frontier Brain's back.

"You know what I mean? Maybe 'Genta's spreading rumors about you again. I think she might still be sore about that time you put bleach in her shampoo," the Arcade Star explains, helping herself to another cookie. Palmer grinds his teeth together.

"What do you mean, spreading rumors about me _again_?" he barks, going red in the face. "D'you mean she's the one who started that story about me not being a natural blond a few weeks back?" He crushes the last cookie into dust, much to his coworker's dismay, and stomps out. The woman can practically see the angry storm cloud hovering above his head.

**TWELVE-FORTY-ONE P.M. **Dahlia admires her Blaziken doodle and resolves to frame it when she gets the chance.

* * *

**ONE-O-FIVE P.M. **The black-haired Frontier Brain has almost finished constructing a complete card house when the door of the Arcade slams loudly, causing it to topple over into a sad little heap. The woman is, understandably, mortified. She is even more mortified when the magenta-haired Hall Matron takes a seat across from her and fixes her with a glare reminiscent of an angry Arbok.

Dahlia opens her mouth to voice a greeting, but Argenta beats her to it. "That's my favorite dress you're wearing, Dahlia," the older Brain begins in a scolding tone, making her coworker wince. "Not to mention my good silk shawls. And—_oh my Arceus, is that a _stain_ on the sleeve_?"

While Argenta lapses into clothing-induced hyperventilation, the younger Frontier Brain tucks her knees up to her chest and attempts to make herself appear as small as possible. Finally, seeming to calm down a bit, the Hall Matron takes a deep breath and sighs and tells Dahlia to _please_, for Rayquaza's sake, ask next time before raiding her closet.

Dahlia agrees. She feels it would be very foolish not to.

**ONE-O-EIGHT P.M. **In an offhand way, Argenta mentions that Palmer shot her a very dirty look when she passed by the Battle Tower. Wisely, Dahlia just gives a noncommittal shrug and remains silent.

**ONE-FIFTEEN P.M. **After a great deal of pleading from Dahlia (not to mention promises of discounted fruit smoothies for the next month), Argenta finally agrees to submit her hand to palm reading.

**ONE-TWENTY-TWO P.M. **Dahlia fails to realize that she's mixed up the Hall Matron's _life line_ with the_ sun line. _

**ONE-TWENTY-THREE P.M. **"This looks pretty bad, 'Genta," the Arcade Star says gravely.

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"Well, it looks like your vitality levels are even worse than Thorton's social skills. Physical health is going down the tube, too."

"What?" Argenta snatches her hand back and pulls her glove back on. Her face grows flushed. "W-wait just a minute! Are you trying to tell me I'm _old_? Is that what you're saying, Dahlia?" she cries indignantly.

Cowering, the black-haired woman resumes her previous position of rocking back and forth with her knees against her chest, trying to shrink out of sight as her coworker lapses into another bout of hyperventilation. "'Genta," she tries weakly, but her words are drowned out by the Hall Matron's rant.

"I'm not old! I'm barely forty!"

"I didn't—"

"I can't believe you'd say something like that to me, Dahlia!"

"—mean to—"

"I-I'm leaving. How could... I can't _b-believe_..." Looking like she's holding back angry tears, Argenta storms away.

"—offend you," Dahlia finishes, staring at the empty seat where, just two seconds ago, her magenta-haired friend had been sitting. Sighing, she pulls out her cards again and begins building another tower.

**ONE-THIRTY-SIX P.M. **After much deliberation, Dahlia decides against giving Argenta that '_Secret Tips to Aging Beautifully_' book for her birthday.

* * *

**TWO-TWELVE P.M. **For the second time that day, Dahlia is a mere two cards away from finishing her card house. She is so intent on her work that she doesn't even notice the hand creeping towards the bottom layer of the tower until it has already plucked away one of the supporting cards. The entire thing crumbles, and she has to fight very hard to keep from burying her head in her hands and sobbing. "Why'd you have to go ahead and do that, Thor?" the Arcade Star whines. "I almost had it that time!"

The Factory Head rolls his eyes, gathering the cards into a neat little stack. "The structure already had some uneven weight distribution, particularly on the left side. There was an eighty-four percent chance that the whole thing would have fallen over even if I hadn't done anything." A short pause. Then he adds, "Besides, Dahlia, these happen to be _my_ custom playing cards. I don't know how you got your hands on them, but..."

Thorton trails off, appearing to have lost interest in the whole situation. Dahlia sighs and passes him a soda.

**TWO-EIGHTEEN P.M. **When asked why he came here to the Arcade in the first place, the boy shrugs and says, "Argenta."

His female coworker pauses. "Huh?"

"I happened to pass her on my way to the Factory. She was pretty mad. Your name popped up once or twice, so I figured you must have had something to do with it."

The black-haired Brain pouts. Thor is just as bad as Palmer, coming up with all these unfair accusations. "Well, I'm sure 'Genta was just overreacting. You know how theatrical she is, right?"

"Still, I'd avoid getting her so worked up. She'll end up having a heart attack before she's fifty if you keep this up, you know." Once again, Thorton is the voice of reason. Now she's feeling guilty again. Crap.

**TWO-TWENTY-FIVE P.M. **The Arcade Star decides that Thorton, just like Caitlin, is ridiculously difficult to impress. "Dahlia, you're not a fortune-teller," he states in a monotone voice after she explains her newest pastime. "You're barely qualified to be a Frontier Brain as it is."

The fact that she could possibly be charged with child abuse is really the only thing keeping her from kicking his ass into next week.

**TWO-THIRTY P.M. **Thorton's custom deck is not at all suitable for tarot reading, but Dahlia decides to make the best of it. She uses her left hand to flip the first card (her other arm is currently holding her coworker in an angry headlock). It is an ace of clubs, though she is more interested in the Pokémon printed on the card. A Lunatone.

"See, Thor, this card here is the_ Moon_," she hums with a cheery grin. It is almost as though she doesn't even notice the fact that the Factory Head is hanging there with her arm crushing his windpipe. "It means that if you don't stop being such a smartass all the time, someone close to you is going to whup your butt."

"...You just made that up."

"What ever gave you that idea?"

**TWO-THIRTY-FOUR P.M. **"This is the_ Hanged Man_. It means—"

"Dahlia, I'm not even listening anymore. Just letting you know."

**TWO-THIRTY-SIX P.M. **"This is—"

"_For the love of Arceus, Dahlia, just let go of me already!_"

**TWO-THIRTY-NINE P.M. **After perhaps ten or eleven half-baked prophecies (all of them, for some mysterious reason, pertaining to Thorton receiving a violent kick in the behind), Dahlia shoves the Factory Head out the door with a very happy wave. He responds with a very _un_happy hand gesture. The Arcade Star closes the door with a smile.

It has been, she decides, a successfully productive day.


	10. Palmer's Bad Day

**For Nellchan0013. The focus of this chapter is actually on Thorton, despite the title. Palmer just happens to share the spotlight as an unfortunate bystander.**

**Coming up next is a request from ShadowDragonAmor... and will feature two characters you may not be expecting. :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.**

* * *

What should have been a normal morning for Palmer quickly went downhill as soon as he stepped into his room on the top floor of the Battle Tower. Or, to be more precise, as soon as he stepped into the rope loop laying innocently in the center of his carpeted floor.

"Wha—" The blond man was suddenly hoisted into the air by his ankle. "Damn it, what the hell is this?"

"Hey, Palmer," someone spoke up behind him.

The Tower Tycoon briefly ceased his struggling, turning his body to face the owner of the voice with some difficulty. Awkwardly craning his neck, he could make out the upside-down form of Thorton standing in the far corner of his room with a water balloon in his hand. "I swear, Thorton, when I get down from here I'm going to _murder_ you, you son of a—"

"Palmer," the Factory Head interrupted smoothly, "think fast." He hurled the balloon straight into the older Brain's face. _Ohshit._

As it turned out, Palmer realized two seconds later, the water balloon didn't contain water at all. It was full of honey.

"If you don't let me down, Shorton," the blond panted, wiping the sticky syrup off his face with one green sleeve, "I will personally kill you... And then I'll kill you again, just for good measure."

The teen clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "It gets better," he stated, pulling out a pillowcase from Arceus-knows-where. The boy turned it upside-down and a cascade of feathers rained down over the swearing, sticky Tower Tycoon. Throwing aside the empty pillowcase and holding up a digital camera, Thorton said, "Say cheese."

"Screw y—"

_Click. Click. Click._

The Factory Head glanced down at the screen of his camera in deep satisfaction. "These photos should serve as some good blackmail, no?"

Palmer gritted his teeth. "I really hate you sometimes."

"Quit complaining, you should be grateful it's only honey. I was going to use hot tar, but Argenta advised against it. Maybe I'll just leave you outside the Fight Area for that family of Ursaring to find you... I've heard that sweet honey can be used to attract Pokémon in great numbers."

"For the love of Giratina's hellish domain, what's your problem?" The blond man's face was flushed, either from anger or from the fact that hanging there by his ankle was no doubt making all of his blood rush to his head. Maybe even both. "Before condemning me to death, how 'bout telling me what I've done, hmm?"

"Well, that's simple." The boy crossed his arms accusingly. "You stole my analysis machine!"

"What? I did not! Besides, have you even considered that we have four other equally insane coworkers here in the Frontier? Any of them could have taken it, you don't have to immediately single _me_ out!"

The Factory Head paused, actually seeming to consider the other male's words. "Well, I'm not saying I believe you, but... if I let you down from there, will you help me find it?"

"How about if you let me down from here, I promise I won't kick your scrawny white butt?"

"Hmm, well, I suppose that works, too." Thorton crossed the room and undid the knot around the Tower Tycoon's ankle, causing the older Frontier Brain to fall to the ground in a crumpled, feathery, cursing heap. "Shall we investigate the Hall first?"

"Whatever, I really don't care." Palmer spat out a mouthful of feathers. "How long did it take you to set up that trap, anyway?"

"...About two hours."

"You really need better hobbies."

"Shut up."

* * *

Argenta opened her door with a smile. "Good morning, Thorton," she hummed cheerfully. "Oh, and Palmer too—do you know that your head is covered in feathers?"

The Tower Tycoon pulled a forced grin. "Really? I hadn't noticed," he managed through gritted teeth. The Hall Matron didn't seem to notice the blond man's annoyance and turned back to Thorton with a quizzical look. "So, I take it your analysis machine wasn't in the Tower?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

The teen shook his head. "Palmer says he didn't take it, and... well, I actually think he's telling the truth. Shocking, huh?" he said, pointedly ignoring the fuming blond in the background. "Don't be offended by me asking this, Argenta, but _you_ didn't happen to take it, did you?"

The magenta-haired woman took on an injured expression. "Of course not!" she cried. Thorton looked at the female Brain for a long moment, then turned abruptly on his heel and began walking towards the Battle Castle. "Well, that's that, then," he said simply. Palmer stood there in shock.

"W-wait! How come you believed Argenta right away and not me?" he growled, clenching his gloved fists dangerously. "You didn't even subject her to the torture that I had to go through!"

"That's because she's a little more trustworthy than you are." The blond man sputtered at his younger coworker's words, while Argenta giggled and closed the door with a playful little wave.

Palmer let out a groan, basking in a cloud of self-pity that was quickly cut off when Thorton called back impatiently, "Hurry up! Why do you have to be such a Slowpoke all the time?" The blond quickened his pace into a jog until he was at the other Brain's side. "I'm regretting that I agreed not to kick your ass," the man stated with a scowl.

"Well, _I'm_ regretting that the only person I have helping me find my analysis machine is a moron." The boy rapped his knuckles sharply against the entrance to the Battle Castle.

Darach opened the door a scant two inches and warily peeked out. "Y-yes, what is it?" he stammered.

"Hey, Darach. I'm looking for my analysis machine. Do either you or Caitlin know where—"

"No, no, of course not. Now, if you will please excuse me..." The Castle Valet went to shut the door but Palmer stuck his foot into the opening. "You're hiding something!" the blond man stated with a maniacal grin. "You did it, didn't you? We should have known, it's so obvious! It's always the butler who commits the crime!" The Tower Tycoon wrenched the door open all the way and the other man stumbled out—wearing a frilly maid's uniform and looking mortified.

Palmer's triumphant smile faded away into an utterly blank look. "Oh," he said intelligently.

Thorton, resolving to wash out his eyes later, decided to try again. "Um... is my... analysis machine... here?"

"N-not to my knowledge, no." The butler's left eye was twitching.

"What about Caitlin?" the Factory Head pressed, and Darach winced when the princess' name was mentioned. Noticing this, the boy added, "Hey, are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm perfectly alright. Just peachy. What ever made you think otherwise? Ahaha..."

"Do you need us to call the suicide hotline again?" Palmer piped up. The Castle Valet gave him a strained smile. "I-I'll be fine, thank you for your concern," he said weakly. "And as f-for Lady Caitlin, she is visiting Miss Dahlia at the moment, so I'm afraid you won't find her here. My deepest apologies... And by the way, Palmer, I do hope you realize you have... feathers all over your body..."

"Thanks for that, Darach. I hope _you_ realize you're wearing a dress!" the Tower Tycoon shot back hotly, but the butler had already closed the door. "Ugh. Well, I guess that leaves just the Battle Arcade. What a surprise."

Thorton heaved a deep sigh. "Indeed."

* * *

Caitlin answered the Arcade's door when the Tower Tycoon and Factory Head came knocking, looking not the least bit surprised to see either of them. "Thorton," she greeted in a bored tone. "Dahlia has that machine you're always poring over, if that's what you're looking for. And Palmer—you're trailing feathers everywhere, did you know?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I _do_ know," the blond man ground out. "And you should probably head back to the Castle, Caitlin, because Darach looked like he was about ready to kill himself."

The princess looked bewildered. "Wait, was he actually wearing the dress? I was only joking with him about it..."

"Hell of a joke. And I'm not even going to _ask_ how you managed to get your hands on a maid uniform fitted for a man, because that's just plain creepy and I'd like to be able to sleep tonight without having nightmares."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Palmer, you idiot, must you really make everything sound so perverted?" she snapped, blushing slightly. "Look, Dahlia's in the kitchen. It's down the first hallway and through the second door on the right, if you don't remember. And Thorton, don't expect her to give up that stupid gadget of yours too easily. It's not like she's trying to steal it or anything, but she has her mind bent on figuring out how to work it and I can't see her handing it back over until she does. I mean, you know how Dahlia can be, right?" Shrugging, the princess strode past the two male Frontier Brains and hurried back to her own facility. The Factory Head sighed and walked through the door and headed down the hallway Caitlin had indicated, Palmer trailing closely behind.

The Arcade Star glanced up with a wide grin when her two coworkers finally popped into her little kitchen area, which was unsurprisingly crammed full of various sweet foods and candies. "Hiya, Thor!" she chirped happily. "I was wondering when you'd be dropping by. And you're here too, Palm? What happened, did you get into a fight with a giant pillow on the way here or something?" she added, casting a curious eye over the Tower Tycoon.

Thorton spoke up before Palmer could voice an angry response, holding out his hand and narrowing his half-lidded eyes. "My analysis machine, Dahlia," the teen stated exasperatedly. "Give it back. Now."

The black-haired woman furrowed her eyebrows in disappointment. "Oh, not now, Thor," she huffed. "I haven't even figured out how to work it yet! All I've managed to do so far is change the password to 'Mudkip power.'"

"Give it back!"

"Why should I?" The female stuck her tongue out, purposely being difficult. Thorton was beginning to lose his patience. "It's _mine_, that's why," the teen seethed. "You stole it!"

"I did not _steal_ it, I just borrowed it... without permission."

"Isn't that the same thing?" The boy threw his hands up into the air, clearly frustrated. "Look, how about a trade?" he sighed after a moment. His female coworker blinked, interest piqued.

"What kind of trade?" she asked, blue eyes sparkling and the smile on her face growing wider.

Thorton thought for a few seconds. "How about in exchange for my analysis machine, I'll buy you... a giant chocolate cake?"

"Mmm... Well, that sounds great, Thor, but to tell the truth I could just ask Darach and he would bake me one for free."

"I swear, Dahlia, you have no shame. What about... well, what about this?" The teen reached into his pocket and pulled out his digital camera. "I could let you borrow this for a while," he offered. Dahlia frowned.

"A camera?" she said doubtfully. "I already own a camera, Thor. 'Genta gave me one for my birthday, remember?"

"Well, _this_ camera happens to contain several incriminating photos of our very own Tower Tycoon hanging by his ankle and covered in feathers—"

"Deal," Dahlia interrupted, snapping her fingers and grabbing the proffered camera, handing the Factory Head back his analysis machine in the process. She giggled as she flipped through the photos on the camera's electronic screen. "You look so funny here, Palm!" she squealed. "What do you say I print out these pictures and send them to all our friends in Sinnoh?"

Palmer groaned. He really got no respect around here at all.


	11. A Date With Darkness

**As requested by ShadowDragonAmor, who honestly comes up with some of the funniest prompts ever. Stay tuned for part two. ;D**

**There is a Mario reference, a Metroid reference, and a Zelda reference in this chapter. Find all three and win a kilogram of honor!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.**

* * *

"Dahlia," Argenta said in exasperation, "don't eavesdrop." The magenta-haired Frontier Brain grabbed a handful of the Arcade Star's long hair and forcibly dragged her away from the window she'd been craning her head out of. Dahlia let out a shriek. "That hurt, 'Genta!" she cried indignantly, clutching at her head and shooting her older coworker a pouty glare. Batting Argenta's hands away, the younger woman immediately scurried back over to the Arcade's window.

"Dahlia!" the Hall Matron hissed.

"What?"

"I told you not to eavesdrop!"

The hyperactive female stuck her tongue out. "It doesn't count as eavesdropping when Caitlin is practically broadcasting her voice loud enough for the whole Frontier to hear."

"But..." Argenta let her hands fall to her sides, looking defeated. "Still, it's rude to listen in on other people's conversations. And—"

"Shh!" The Arcade Star raised a finger to her lips, waving her other hand wildly to silence her friend. "Shh, 'Genta, listen! Cait's saying something now!"

Perhaps it would have been more accurate to say that Caitlin was screaming something at the top of her lungs... because the princess' voice was anything but conversational: "_OH, SO YOU THINK I'M BEING SHORT-TEMPERED, DO YOU? I SWEAR—_"

Dahlia ducked back out of the window. "Geez, I can't see crap from here. Quick, do you have any binoculars?"

"What? Why would I have any..."

_"YOU IDIOT, OF COURSE YOU DID! GET OUT! GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I—"_

The Arcade Star frowned. "I can't hear what Darach is saying from here," she whined.

"Of course not," Argenta sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose between her fingers and rubbing her temple. "He would never raise his voice to Caitlin. And stop leaning forward so much, Dahlia, or you'll end up falling out of the window."

"Spoilsport," the black-haired woman teased affectionately. "Come on, 'Genta, live a little! This is way better than all those stupid soap operas you watch."

"Still, I don't think..."

_"YOU HEARD ME, OUT! GET OUT OF HERE! AND DON'T BOTHER COMING BACK!"_ Caitlin's words concluded with what sounded suspiciously like the slamming of a door. Dahlia extracted herself from her window and let out a low whistle. "...Well, that was interesting."

* * *

Five minutes later saw the Castle Valet dragging a suitcase over to the Arcade Star's little table and wringing his hands in a weary, defeated sort of way. "Miss Dahlia, may I stay here tonight?" he asked timidly, which the black-haired woman more-or-less translated as, "May I sit and cry in the corner while forces beyond my control continue to mock my very existence?" The female Frontier Brain plastered a smile on her face.

"Aw, of course you can, Dar! You don't have to ask," she said with a laugh, punching his shoulder. "So," the Arcade Star continued, perhaps a little _too_ curiously, "what did you do this time?"

Darach blinked, and Argenta took the time to not-so-subtly kick the other woman in the shins. "I'm sorry?" the man said politely.

The black-haired female shrugged her shoulders. "Well, I mean you got kicked out again, didn't you? So, what did you do to make Cait so mad? I—ouch!" She bent forward and rubbed her leg in pain, glaring at her magenta-haired coworker, who had evidently kicked her again and was now innocently perusing a newspaper. The butler didn't seem to have noticed any of this, though that may have had something to do with the fact that he was holding a hand over his face in mortification. "Oh..." he mumbled. "You heard all of that?"

"Well, considering that Cait's voice carries like that of a Loudred's during mating season," Dahlia began bracingly, "I'm pretty sure the entire Frontier heard." She quickly added, "But cheer up, ya know? I mean, it's not like it's the first time this has happened, right?"

Argenta set down her newspaper with a sigh. "Dahlia, I don't think you're helping."

"Your confidence in me is inspiring," the younger female retorted with a pout. Switching gears for a moment, she innocently asked, "Can I borrow that paper, 'Genta?"

"What?" The Hall Matron looked confused at this sudden change in topic, but nevertheless handed over the aforementioned newspaper with a roll of her eyes. "You know, I really don't understand your thought process."

"Oh, shush." Folding the paper safely under her arm, Dahlia turned to the Castle Valet with a grin. "Listen, Dar," she said, patting his shoulder, "I'm going to go over and talk to Cait for you, 'kay?"

The man looked a little disbelieving. "...You are?"

"Uh huh. Wait, wait, what's that face for?" Dahlia frowned in indignation. "What, don't you believe me?"

"Of c-course I do!" Darach reassured her in a meek voice (which the Arcade Star translated as meaning, "Eww, of course not, you weirdo!") and with a rather nervous laugh. Rolling her eyes, the female bounced out of the Battle Arcade with a lazy wave.

Taking a few steps outside, Dahlia shut the door quietly behind her and cast a cautious glance around to survey her surroundings. Instead of making her way over to the Castle, she then ducked behind a tree and flipped through Argenta's newspaper rapidly, eyes scanning each section closely. Upon finding the page she wanted, the woman's face broke into a wide grin. Pulling out her phone, she quickly dialed a number and held it up to her ear, still glancing around to make sure there was no one nearby. The person on the other end picked up on the third ring:

"_Hello?_" said a cool, female voice. "_This is Karen speaking._"

Stifling a giggle, Dahlia leaned back against the tree, still smiling widely. "Hi, Karen," the Arcade Star began in a light, friendly tone, "I'm calling in response to your personal ad..."

* * *

Dahlia sauntered back to the table with a smile, plopping down onto her seat and sliding the somewhat crumpled newspaper back over to Argenta. "Good news!" she cried, clapping her hands together cheerily.

Darach perked up. "Did Lady Caitlin say I could come back?" he asked hopefully.

The black-haired Frontier Brain didn't even skip a beat. "Nope!"

The man slumped, looking crushed. "She... didn't?" he said faintly.

"Come on, Dar, I was only gone for about two minutes. I'm good, but not that good. Besides," the woman invented, "she, uh, wasn't even there. Caitlin wasn't there, I mean." She was grasping wildly at this point—she probably should have taken more time to think her plan through. "Maybe she decided to take a walk and, um, visit another castle or something," the Arcade Star offered lamely.

"How can the princess be in another castle? We only have one around here." The butler was looking at her with something very close to accusation in his eyes.

"Fine, fine, I was just kidding, okay? No need to bite my head off. Look, I tried to talk to Cait, but, er, the door was... locked. Yeah." The female Brain winced. Her stories were going downhill at the speed of light.

"...Miss Dahlia, you're lying to me, aren't you?"

"You're making it necessary, Darach!"

Argenta, long since forgotten, stared back and forth between the two with a raised eyebrow. "Dahlia," the older woman piped up finally, "did you even go to the Battle Castle like you said you would?"

"Of course I did, 'Genta!"

The Hall Matron didn't look convinced in the slightest. "Dahlia, I want you to imagine that Arceus is sitting here in the room with us," she said sternly. "Now, did you _really_ go to the Castle?"

"Yes!" The Arcade Star faltered. "...no."

"Then why did you go outside?"

"I, um, had to make a phone call." Desperately trying to salvage the situation, the black-haired Arcade Star added enthusiastically, "No need to thank me, Dar, but I set you up on a date with Karen of the Indigo League Elite Four!" She concluded her statement with a nervous laugh, scooting her chair back a few inches in case she would need to make a run for it.

Darach seemed to take it quite well. He didn't scream or tug out his hair or even try to jump out the window. He just didn't say anything for about five minutes.

Argenta poked the man in the shoulder. "I think you killed him," she said bluntly. The Castle Valet pushed her hand away gently.

"I'm still alive," he reassured her in a hollow voice. "Unfortunately."

"Cheer up, Dar. It gets better!" Dahlia was waving her arms around frantically. "I also arranged a date between Thorton and Maylene, from Veilstone City. And come to think of it, Volkner had posted an ad, too... Maybe I should have set _him_ up with Palmer, just for laughs." She paused. "And by the way, Karen said she'd be over in an hour via teleportation."

"An _hour_? That's not nearly enough time for me to compose a will and then successfully commit suicide."

"Oh, stop being such a wimp and go get ready." Dahlia was smiling brightly, Argenta rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her newspaper, and Darach could nothing more than bury his head in his hands and sigh.

* * *

Based on appearances alone, Karen didn't quite seem to fit the image of a Dark-type specialist. On the contrary, with her flimsy yellow tank top, white capris, and long silvery hair, she looked anything but. The female Elite Four member crossed through the Arcade with a graceful, confident gait and looked around with a bright smile, light blue eyes wide with interest. "Wow, I could get used to a place like this," she said with a laugh. Darting forward, the young woman grabbed Darach's arm and hauled him out from where he had been attempting to hide behind Argenta. "Hi there, hot stuff!"

The Castle Valet flinched. "Ah... h-hello."

"Your name is Darach, right?" Without waiting for an answer, the Elite Four member held out her hand with a smile. "I'm Karen. It's a pleasure to meet you!"

He took her hand after only a brief hesitation, shaking it politely. "Miss Karen."

"Ooh, you're a proper one, aren't you?" The silvery-haired woman batted her eyelashes. "I like that in a man."

Cringing, Darach desperately glanced back over to where Dahlia and Argenta were still sitting, shooting the duo a pleading look. The Hall Matron smiled sympathetically, while the Arcade Star grinned and gave him a thumbs up. Karen tugged at his arm insistently. "Hey, come on, you're going to show me around, right? We don't really have anything like this over in Johto. Lance is a great Champion and all, but if he didn't spend so much of the League's money buying capes and upgrading that fancy gold room of his, maybe we could someday build our own Battle Frontier." With a cheerful wink at the two female Brains still watching the scene from their little table, the Dark-type trainer practically kicked open the Arcade's door and dragged the quietly protesting Castle Valet outside by the sleeve.

Dahlia leaned out the window, waving at the two as they left. "Hey, come back later for a drink, okay? The first round's on me!" she called, cupping her hands around her mouth. She was leaning so far that this time she really did topple out of the window, though fortunately the drop was only about three feet and her landing was cushioned by a thick bed of flowers. "Oww..."

The magenta-haired Hall Matron poked her head out. "Dahlia? You're not hurt, are you?"

"Only my pride." The younger woman sat up with a groan, rubbing her side. "I'm covered in dirt and there's going to be a bruise the size of Giratina on my butt, but I think I'll live." Getting to her feet and dusting off her clothes as best she could, the Arcade Star turned on her heel and promptly came face-to-face with none other than the Battle Castle's princess. "Cait? What are you doing here?" the black-haired female exclaimed in surprise.

The girl had an impassive look on her face. "...Did you just fall out of the window?"

"Um... no."

"I think you did. I just saw it happen."

"No you didn't. That was an illusion."

Caitlin rolled her eyes. "You're not a Zoroark, Dahlia. You can't make illusions."

"Well, _excuuuuse_ me, princess!" The Arcade Star stuck her tongue out childishly. Ignoring this, the brown-haired girl's gaze shifted over to the northernmost part of the Frontier. In an increasingly ominous way, she asked, "Is that Darach over there by the Tower? Who's that he's with?"

"Gee, Cait, I don't know," Dahlia laughed nervously. "Maybe it's—"

"If you say it's another illusion, I'm going to telekinetically punch you in the face."

The princess' coworker hesitated. "...Is that even possible, Cait?"

"Do you want to find out?"

"Not really, no." Dahlia edged back a few feet. "Her, uh, name is Karen. She's the Dark-type Elite Four member over in Johto and Kanto." Not the smartest thing to say, perhaps. Caitlin was not particularly fond of Dark-type Pokémon, although she did have quite a soft spot for the Houndoom line. The Arcade Star scooted back a few inches further—the younger Frontier Brain's eyes had narrowed noticeably.

"And what," the girl said calmly, "is she doing _here_?"

"Um..." Dahlia scrambled back over to the Battle Arcade's window. "'Genta? How 'bout a little help over here?" she pleaded.

The Hall Matron's response was to toss her crumpled-up newspaper out the window, where it hit the younger woman in the forehead and bounced off. The black-haired female fumed. "Some friend _you_ are, 'Genta!" she cried, aghast. Turning back to face the princess, she put her hands over her eyes and braced herself for the explosion. "Well, you see, Cait, the thing is..."

"_Yes_?" the girl pressed, eye twitching.

"She and Darach are on a date together!" Dahlia peeked out from behind her hands, glancing about cautiously. The princess still appeared quite calm. "...You seem to be taking this pretty well. Aren't you mad?"

Caitlin smiled serenely, which was honestly the scariest thing the Arcade Star had seen all week. The smile never leaving her face, the girl said sweetly, "Oh, I'm mad. In fact, I'm downright furious."

"Cait, don't yell at him again. Dar's had a pretty bad day."

"I'm not going to yell at him," the princess explained reassuringly. "I'm going to kill him. And after that, I'm going to take you and Argenta out for cake and ice cream." She turned on her heel and began stomping her way over to the Battle Tower.

"Whoa, hold up_—_don't do anything drastic!" The black-haired female grabbed the other Frontier Brain's arm in desperation.

"Fine. If murder is too drastic, then I'll just maim him a bit. Happy now?" The girl sighed impatiently, tossing her wavy brown hair. "Dahlia, let go of me."

"Look, Cait, I'm not letting you go to the Tower if you're going to be all pissed off about it. Remember what happened last time you lost your temper? Thorton still hasn't been able to reopen that battle room, there was so much broken glass everywhere. You're staying put right here. Er... any objections, Lady?"

"Yes, actually. For one, I object to you telling me what to do. I'm not a little kid." The princess exhaled loudly through her nostrils, shooting her friend an exasperated glare. "Look, I won't kill him, okay? I won't even hurt him." She paused. "...I'll still yell at him, though. And don't make that face, Dahlia, because that's as nice as I'm going to get."

The Arcade Star blinked, thinking for a moment. Her expression slowly shifted to a rather mischievous one. "In that case," the hyperactive female said slowly, "I'll just have to tag along as your chaperone!"

Caitlin twitched, and one of the Frontier's nearby streetlamps suddenly cracked down the middle with a shower of sparks. "...What?"

* * *

**I think Dahlia needs to learn to be less impulsive...**

**Palmer, Thorton, and Maylene don't show up in this chapter, but you can expect to see them in the next one.**


	12. Problems In Paradise

** Here's part two of ShadowDragonAmor's request. I have to say, Karen is pretty fun to write, and Maylene is just plain adorable. Also, I guess the Metroid reference last chapter was a little obscure (hint: Other M), but that's okay, because I'll grant everyone the kilogram of honor anyway. I'm not sure if it's worth much, but you can brag about it, right? Right.**

**...Karen ended up being a lot creepier than I had intended her to be in this chapter. D:  
**

** Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.**

* * *

The Dark-type specialist was frowning as she tested the doors to the Battle Tower, which were sealed tight and refused to budge. Heaving a small sigh, the silvery-haired woman abandoned her previous efforts and instead contented herself with peering through one of the expansive glass windows longingly. "Well, that's too bad," she huffed in a pouting tone reminiscent of a certain Arcade Star. "I really wanted to go inside. I mean, look at how tall it is! It makes the Indigo Plateau look short in comparison. I'll bet there's a really romantic view on the top floor, wouldn't you agree?"

Darach had the grace to arrange his expression into one of polite bewilderment rather than horror. "I... guess so?" he offered cautiously.

"You don't agree?" Karen asked with a quizzical frown, tilting her head to one side. She glanced back up at the Tower. "Imagine watching the sunset from all the way up there! And the stars, too. From that height, the sky would look fantastic."

"Mmm hmm," the Castle Valet agreed noncommittally. He had started tapping his fingers against his arm relentlessly, and the nervous gesture prompted the female Elite Four member to look his way with a quirked eyebrow. "Hey, look, I'm not going to bite your head off or anything," she said suddenly, leaning back against the glass window and looking faintly amused by the whole situation.

Confused, Darach briefly ceased his tapping. "I'm sorry?"

"Well, I get that you must be pretty shy or something, but seriously, you need to relax a bit." With a playful little wink and a cheery smile that somehow came off as looking slightly predatory, Karen added, "Do I really scare you that much?"

Shrinking back, the man nervously laughed and resumed his finger-tapping. "Y-you do. In fact, you terrify me." Then, "Oh no, I said that out loud, didn't I? I'm so sorry!" He bowed hurriedly. "My deepest apologies, Miss Karen. That was very rude of me."

The silvery-haired woman was silent for all of three seconds, before bursting into laughter. Slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles, she fixed the male Frontier Brain with a fond look. "Well, that wasn't _nearly_ as flattering a response I was hoping for, but..." She trailed off, still giggling. "You're honest, I'll give you that. I like you, Darach. I think you're a sweetie. And your cologne smells nice."

Pausing in mid-bow, the Castle Valet didn't even bother to hide the disturbed look that passed over his face. "Excuse me?"

Karen seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, before finally shrugging and holding her hands out appeasingly. "You smell nice," she stated in a matter-of-fact way. "Come over here for a minute and let me smell you."

"...What?"

"Oh, come on, don't be shy." Her lips curving into a smile not unlike that of a Gengar, the Dark-type Elite stepped forward, leaned in close, and—

_Crash_!

One of the Battle Tower's windows flashed brightly, before the shining surface seemed to erupt into a myriad of spider-webbing cracks. Jumping in alarm, Karen and Darach barely managed to back away to a safe distance before the jagged shards of glass began to fall, shattering on the ground and flying in every direction. The silvery-haired female, eyes wide with shock, managed to calm herself long enough to glance around in confusion, shaking slightly. "Arceus, what happened?" She raised her eyes to the shattered remains of the window. "Did a Pokémon fly into the building or something?"

Looking rather pale, Darach spoke up suddenly, and his voice was heavy with concern. "Miss Karen, you're bleeding."

"Huh?"

"Your hand."

"Oh." The Elite Four member flexed her fingers for a moment, before holding out her arm and examining the thin red line running along the edge of her hand to her wrist. "The glass must've just caught me, I guess. It's only a little cut. No biggie."

"Are you sure? You don't want to go to the hospital or anything?"

"Hey, look, it's hardly bleeding at all, see? I'm no doctor, but I don't think a little scrape like this is going to be the end of me." Apparently having gotten over the shock of having witnessed a glass window shatter for no reason, the woman raised her uninjured hand to her lips and giggled lightly. "You know, you're cute when you're worried like that. It's sweet. Besides, I—" She broke off suddenly, whipping her head around and staring at a nearby line of trees intently. "...That's weird," she murmured, puzzled. "I thought I saw something over there."

"The Pokémon that hit the window, perhaps?" Fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket and then tying it neatly over the female Elite's hand, Darach's expression was akin to that of a squeamish character in a horror movie being confronted by a gruesomely mangled corpse. "You're sure you'll be okay, Miss Karen?"

"You're so cute. I'll be fine, sweetie. But anyway, I don't think anything actually hit the window. We were standing right in front of it, we would've seen it happen. It almost seemed to have broken by itself." Craning her neck to look back over into the row of trees, the woman frowned in thought. "Anyway, I thought I saw... hmm. Eh, never mind, it doesn't matter. Let's go visit the other places now. How about that one over there?" Turning on her heel, Karen began marching her way to the Battle Factory, tugging Darach along by the sleeve.

The next few seconds passed in silence. Then—

"Shit, you almost killed them back there, Cait!" Dahlia cried, peeking out from the tree she was hiding behind once the coast was clear. The Battle Castle's princess, her arms crossed over her chest defiantly, shot the black-haired woman a glare. With an angry snarl, the younger Brain protested in a defensive way, "She was going to kiss him!"

"I think she just wanted to smell him."

Caitlin looked revolted. "Ugh, that's even worse. And then they were holding hands!"

The Arcade Star rubbed her head wearily. "Oh, give me a break, Caitlin. I'm pretty sure Dar was just bandaging Karen's hand after _you_ got mad and blew up the window."

The princess fumed. "...I'm firing him when this is all over."

"You can't fire him, Darach is the only person in the whole world masochistic enough to put up with you twenty-four seven. You would never find a replacement. Come on, Cait, no more wrecking public property, 'kay?"

"Look, it was an accident, understand? I really didn't mean for it to happen..." The girl had the shame to look just the tiniest bit guilty. "I can't control it, you know? Whenever my emotions get involved, things kind of start to happen on their own, just like _that._" She snapped her fingers as if to emphasize her point. A nearby flowerbed promptly exploded, showering the duo with leaves and dirt.

"Oh, hell, Cait!" Dahlia sputtered, indignant. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"I did not! You see what I mean? I can't control it!"

* * *

To the Castle Valet and Dark-type Elite's slight surprise, there were two figures already standing outside the entrance to the Battle Factory. The first was Argenta, who greeted them with an upbeat wave, and the second was none other than the Gym Leader of Veilstone City, Maylene. The pink-haired girl turned and smiled shyly. "H-hello," she said, slightly hesitant. "I was just being shown around by Argenta and Palmer. Are you two Frontier Brains as well?"

"Darach is, but I'm actually an Elite Four member. Cool, huh?" Karen said with a grin. The Dark-type specialist's words were slightly prideful, though her friendly, inviting smile helped to dispel any traces of arrogance in her voice. Warming up a bit, Maylene's reserved expression seemed to brighten. "Oh, wow!" the girl gushed. "You guys must all be really tough! I don't know much about what it means to be strong, but I was still made a Gym Leader and I've been doing a lot of training. Candice keeps telling me to take a break, but..." Shrugging a bit, the Fighting-type trainer tilted her head to one side in question. "You're not from Sinnoh, are you? Which Elite Four are you in?"

"The Indigo League. It's great, really, even though our Champion has this freaky cape fetish."

"Capes?" Maylene suddenly blinked in realization. "Oh, wait, did you say the Indigo League? Then you must know Bruno! He's like the role model for trainers everywhere who use Fighting-type Pokémon... He must know what it means to be strong, right?"

"Bruno? Yeah, he's pretty strong, I guess." The silvery-haired woman shrugged. "Arceus, he _must_ be strong if he can stand to sit in that sweltering lava room of his. Plus, I'm pretty sure he has a stomach of steel. Guy can't cook worth a damn—he's set the stove on fire so many times, I think Lance finally banned him from ever setting foot into the kitchen again. And he likes to say 'hoo hah!' a lot."

"S-so let me make sure I've got this right..." The female Gym Leader was pushing her fingertips together anxiously. She looked as though she was wishing she'd brought along a notebook and pencil. "The key to being strong is to be able to brave the elements, eat lots of food, and have weird battle cries?"

"Um..." Karen glanced around at the others. Darach and Argenta both had matching looks of confusion on their faces. Maylene didn't appear put out in the slightest. On the contrary, she was beginning to look quite happy. "This is great!" she cheered, punching a gloved fist into the air. "I have a whole bunch of new ideas for my training now... I can't wait to tell Candice!" She whipped around curiously as the doors to the Battle Factory suddenly slid open and smiled widely when Palmer appeared, pulling the Factory Head along behind him by the necktie.

"Hi! You must be Shorton. I'm Maylene, from Veilstone," she chirped. In light of her new training plans, the pink-haired girl now seemed to be overflowing with confidence. "Pleased to meet you!"

"It's _Thorton_, not Shorton," the boy grumbled. "Did Dahlia tell you that when she made the call? I swear, I've never met anyone so annoying before in my life..."

"Wait, so your name is really Thorton?"

"That's right. And for future reference, you should ignore everything Dahlia says, because she happens to be a blatant liar."

"Oh, okay." Maylene shrugged her shoulders. Her smile hadn't faded in the slightest. "Hey, let's go get something to eat!"

"What?" The Factory Head looked utterly confused by the sudden change in topic. The Fighting-type specialist nodded vigorously. Face set in determination, she said, "I just came up with a new training regimen, and I think I'll start by entering the annual eatathon contest in Celadon. I have to start practicing because it's being held in only two months!" The pink-haired Gym Leader seized Thorton by the collar. "Come on, there's no time to lose! You can help me practice. Let's go!" She dragged the teen away, waving enthusiastically over her shoulder. "Thanks for all the help, you guys! Stop by Veilstone if you get the chance, and I'll try to get you some discounts at the Game Corner!"

The magenta-haired Hall Matron waved back, chuckling. "Cute girl, isn't she?" she said to Palmer, who nodded. "Yeah," he hummed. "Reminds me a little of my son."

Karen coughed. "Not to change the subject, but you're the guy in charge of the Battle Tower, right?" she asked. Breaking out of his moment of reminiscence, the blond man promptly leapt up and posed dramatically. "Correct!" he announced proudly. "The leader of the Battle Frontier, the one and only Tower Tycoon Palmer! That's me!" He struck another pose, overbalancing and almost falling flat on his face in the process. Darach and Argenta exchanged a sideways glance and hurriedly looked away, the former appearing somewhat embarrassed while the latter seemed to be struggling to hold back her laughter.

"Uh huh, right." The Dark-type Elite barely quirked an eyebrow, though her eyes flashed in amusement and she, like the Hall Matron, seemed to be biting back laughter. Placing her hands on her hips, she nodded her head in the direction of the Tower and added, "Anyway, you might want to go back there and check things out. The window's busted."

Palmer frowned. "The window?"

"Yeah, it was weird. The thing practically _exploded_ when we were over there. Scared the crap out of me."

Squinting in the direction of his facility, the blond Frontier Brain stifled an agonized groan. "Hell, it _is_ broken, isn't it? I can see it from here. Arceus, those things are expensive." He ran a gloved hand through his scruffy hair with a long-suffering sigh. "Well, it looks like I'll be kissing another paycheck goodbye..." He shuffled off, and the other three could almost see the proverbial storm cloud hovering above his head.

Karen blinked in sympathy. "Poor guy."

"Last month he had a practice battle with his son and ended up breaking six of those windows. He'll get over it," the Hall Matron reassured her, smiling. The magenta-haired Brain swept her hand out invitingly. "Now, did you already show Karen around the Battle Hall, Darach?"

"Not yet, Miss Argenta."

"Well, that's perfect! I was just going to head back myself. I'd be happy to give you two a tour."

The Elite Four member beamed. "Really? That would be great, thanks." Grabbing the Castle Valet by the arm and trotting cheerfully alongside Argenta in the direction of the pink, stadium-like Hall, the silvery-haired woman then turned her head and shot a discreet, curious glance over her shoulder.

* * *

"We need to be more careful. I think she saw us that time."

"She couldn't have seen us," the Arcade Star protested, glaring in indignation at her younger coworker. "We're being sneakier than a group of Kecleon over here. There's no way she could've seen us!"

Caitlin slapped her forehead. "We're hiding behind a _tree_, Dahlia. I'm wearing a pink dress, and your shirt is bright yellow."

"What's your point, Cait?"

"My point is that the two of us are about as unnoticeable as a Clefairy and a Pikachu waving around flags that read '_Hey, look at us! We're spying on you!_' while wearing fedoras."

"Hmph." The black-haired Frontier Brain crossed her arms and pouted, her expression becoming somewhat disheartened. The next fifteen minutes passed in relative silence. Then Caitlin suddenly stiffened. "Oh, _hell_ no!" she hissed.

"What's wrong?"

"They're going to the Castle, that's what's wrong!"

Dahlia blinked. "Already? Geez, that must've been a short tour 'Genta gave them..."

"Don't you get it? They're going to the Castle! _My_ Battle Castle!" The princess gritted her teeth together in fury. "Arceus damn it, I don't want her going in there! It's mine!"

"Hey, calm down, Cait," the Arcade Star laughed nervously. "You know, I bet if you actually met her face-to-face, you and Karen could be friends and..." She shrank back when her younger coworker shot her a glare that would have made a rabid Banette look downright huggable in comparison. "I, um... Yeah, I'm just going to, uh, shut up now... Please don't hurt me..."

* * *

"The Battle Castle, huh?" Karen hummed, casting her eyes over the majestic structure in front of her. "Well, it certainly looks impressive enough. This is where you work, right, sweetie?"

"That is correct, Miss Karen. M-my title is the Castle Valet..." Darach seemed to have resumed his former habit of tapping his fingers against his arm, nervously glancing around as if expecting to be attacked at any moment. The Dark-type Elite seemed not to have noticed. "Valet, huh?" she mused with a mischievous little quirk of her eyebrow. "What, so do you have to park the challenger's car before battling them?"

"N-no, not that kind of valet. I just—"

"Relax, I was joking, okay? I get it. So you're like a butler or something?" Karen grinned widely. "Well, I guess that explains the subservient attitude. And here I thought you were treating me all formally and princess-like because I was special!" She laughed, twirling her hair around one finger. "Oh well, whatever. Let's go inside." She went to walk through the doors, but paused when the male Frontier Brain failed to follow her. "Hey, what's up with you?"

"It's not allowed. I'm sorry, I can't," the man said finally. He seemed to be talking more to himself than to the female Elite. Karen furrowed her eyebrows, confused. "What's not allowed? I thought you said this was where you worked?" she pressed.

"It is, but... this morning, my employer told me to leave. So, I shouldn't go in. It's... not allowed."

"Employer? You have an employer?" The silvery-haired woman snapped her fingers in understanding. "Ah, butler, got it. Well, we'll only be in there for a minute or two. Just to take a peek, okay? I promise!" She tugged him through the doorway stubbornly. Once inside, the Elite Four member's eyes widened comically. "Holy crap," she breathed.

"What's wrong? It needs cleaning, doesn't it? I knew I should have dusted this morning!"

"Are you kidding me? It's... oh, wow." Karen inched forward and examined a shiny, spotless gold railing with a fascination in her eyes reminiscent of a biologist examining the insides of a freshly dissected organism. "It's... clean. Really clean. Almost scary clean. People actually live in here?" The female looked back to see the Castle Valet scrubbing away at the immaculate wall with his sleeve. "What in the name of Giratina's hellish domain are you doing over there?"

"...There was a spot on the wall."

With undisguised bluntness and an expression that suggested she might be feeling concerned for the other's sanity, the Dark-type trainer deadpanned, "Something's wrong with you. Seriously."

"You sound just like Miss Dahlia."

"Mmm. Well, Dahlia's the one in charge of the place with the bar, right? The Battle Arcade, was it? I'll take it as a compliment that I sound just like her, she seemed like a lot of fun. Why don't we head on back there? She said the first round of drinks would be on her." Under her breath, the silvery-haired female added, "Besides, this place is _way_ too clean. It's starting to give me the creeps."

"Did you say something, Miss Karen?"

"Um, no, not really. Come on, let's get out of here..." Grabbing him by the arm, the Elite Four member pushed the door back open and practically dragged Darach back outside, pausing for a second or two to shoot a calculating look at the row of neatly planted hedges lining the sidewalk. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then shook her head and sighed in a half amused, half disbelieving manner, still tugging the male Frontier Brain in the direction of the Arcade.

"Aw, crap!" Poking her head out from behind the hedge once the duo had passed, Dahlia's expression was one of horror. "I'm supposed to be at the bar right now!" Leaping out of the shrub and frantically brushing leaves out of her hair, the black-haired woman sprinted off with a wave. "Gotta go, Cait! Later!"

Clambering out from the hedge more slowly, the Battle Castle's princess crossed her arms and glared at the retreating form of her coworker. "Well, what am _I_ supposed to do, then?" she snapped, fuming. Turning on her heel and whipping around her long, wavy hair, the girl huffed angrily and stomped her foot into the ground.

The hedge exploded.

* * *

Karen stopped dead when she and Darach stepped into the Battle Arcade's bar and came face-to-face with a smiling and slightly out-of-breath Dahlia. "Well, damn," the Elite finally found her voice to say. "How in the world did you manage to get back here before us?"

"What do you mean? I've been here this whole time!" The female Frontier Brain placed her hands on her hips and quickly arranged her expression into one of innocent confusion. The attempt was valiant, yet ultimately failed. The Dark-type specialist rolled her eyes in a good-natured way. "Oh, come on, you're a terrible liar," she said with a knowing toss of her silvery hair. "You and that girl have been following us all day."

"What girl? You mean Maylene?" The Arcade Star, not one to give up without a fight, still had an expression of stubborn denial on her face. "She's over at the buffet kicking Thorton's ass in an eating contest."

"Not that girl. The other one." Karen laced her fingers together in thought. "Long brown hair, pink dress?" She hesitated for a moment before adding, "...Looked like she had anger issues?"

"Oh, yeah. You mean Caitlin." Dahlia slumped, now acutely aware that she had been defeated. "Yeah, she was there too, I guess."

Darach looked utterly shocked. "Lady Caitlin?"

"Wait, that girl is a Lady? Then does that mean..." The Elite Four member clapped her hands together in realization. "_She's_ your employer? That girl? Oh, sweetie, she looked like an absolute tyrant! Not to mention flat-chested."

The male Frontier Brain looked appalled. "D-don't insult her!" he protested weakly. Karen didn't appear to be listening. Craning her neck to look out the Arcade's nearest window, the silvery-haired woman's expression was growing more and more mischievous, and the sudden, devilish gleam in her eyes seemed to truly reaffirm her status as an elite Dark-type trainer. "Ooh, wait, here she comes now! Boy, does she look mad." She turned back to Darach and grabbed him by the collar. "Give me a kiss, quick."

"What? N-no!"

"Come on, it'll be fun! I don't bite... much." The Elite tilted her head, leaned forward, and—

And the door to the Battle Arcade slammed open with enough force to rattle the tables and chairs, revealing a furious Caitlin, whose murderous glare would have put an Arbok's to shame. Darach, visibly fearful, took the time to extract himself from Karen's grip and hid behind a similarly intimidated Dahlia, who in turn ducked behind the apparently unmoved Dark-type specialist. Heaving a small sigh, the silvery-haired woman shook her head and said, "I swear, you two are a bunch of wimps." To Caitlin, she playfully added, "Well, I was wondering when you'd be showing up here. It's nice to meet you... or is the feeling not mutual?"

"What are you doing here?" the Battle Castle's princess managed to grind out.

"I'm on a romantic date, of course!" the other supplied in a maddeningly sing-song voice. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I'm here to murder my butler, and I do believe you happen to be standing in the way. Move."

"Huh, well, I don't really feel like moving. What are you going to do about it, hmm?" The female Elite's face was bright with amusement. Caitlin, on the other hand, seemed to be struggling to keep her temper in check. After a short, tense silence, the girl dug into the pocket of her white jacket and produced a pen and checkbook, the latter of which she scribbled into with a flourish. Tearing out one of the thin slips of paper and shoving it forcefully in the older woman's direction, the princess said in a clipped voice, "Here."

Karen looked nonplussed. "What's this for?"

"Take it. Go buy yourself a nice vacation. Preferably one far away from here. Now move."

The silvery-haired female pushed the check away. "Why do I get the feeling you're trying to get rid of me?" she pouted.

Caitlin didn't skip a beat. "I don't like you, that's why."

"Oh, really?" With a smile so wide it came off as looking rather demented, Karen said, "I like you a lot, already."

"You're annoying me, and I'm beginning to think that you're doing it on purpose. Now get out of my way." There was a nasty twitch in the girl's eye. "Move. I'm not going to ask again."

For a moment, it looked as though the Elite Four member was going to protest. Then finally, with an overly-dramatic sigh, she held up her arms in defeat and shuffled off to the side. "Fine, fine, no need to get all bent out of shape about it. But you should know..." She tossed her long, silvery hair over one shoulder and began braiding it, looking thoughtful. "...It was your friend over there who called me, not your cute butler. Dahlia, was it? She's the one who arranged the date, didn't you know?"

The princess looked thunderstruck. "No, I didn't know," she said through gritted teeth.

"Karen! You're not supposed to tell her that!" the Arcade Star squeaked, horrified. Looking around for an escape route desperately, the black-haired Frontier Brain finally settled for diving out the window and scrambling off in the direction of the Battle Hall. Caitlin kicked the door open and made to chase after her, but paused at the last second and turned her head to glare at the remaining two inhabitants of the bar. To Karen, she said haughtily, "I still don't like you."

"Hey, we should hang out together. I think we could be great friends," the Elite countered with a small laugh.

"Arceus, you're almost as bad as Dahlia." Turning to face the Castle Valet, the girl crossed her arms with a frown. "I'm mad at you," she said finally.

Darach cringed. "I know. I'm sorry, Lady Caitlin."

"Hmph."

"May I... come back to the Battle Castle later?" he ventured hesitantly.

Caitlin pursed her lips. "It needs cleaning," she said in a grudging way almost approaching forgiveness.

Karen looked as though she wanted to tug out fistfuls of her newly braided hair. "Are you serious?" she groaned, disbelieving. "I mean, have you seen the place? It's cleaner than a sterilized hospital room! It doesn't even look lived in!"

"_It... needs... cleaning..._" Caitlin repeated, her eye twitching again. Then she abruptly turned on her heel and began stomping off to the Battle Hall.

"...Man, you Frontier Brains are weird." The Elite shrugged her shoulders and shot the Castle Valet a grin. "I mean, _my_ coworkers almost seem normal in comparison... and that's saying something when your boss is a dragon-obsessed cape fetishist."

* * *

**Poor Lance gets no respect, not even from his underlings. And also, Caitlin apparently has very little respect for innocent shrubbery. D:  
**


	13. The Day Everyone Went Insane

** As requested by Pokemon Nerd. This chapter dances on the edge of being a crack fic, but don't worry—it'll make sense at the end, I promise. Also stay tuned for next chapter, because we'll be taking a trip to visit Caitlin in the wonderful region of Unova. :D**

**There's a tiny Sebastian reference here, for anyone who happens to be Kuroshitsuji savvy.  
**

** Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.**

* * *

Caitlin was _not_ having a good day. The princess had just curled up on her bed for an afternoon nap, only to be rudely awoken by rummaging sounds coming from behind the closed door of her walk-in closet. Seizing a pillow and burrowing her head under it in a vain attempt at muffling the sounds, the girl squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth in ill-disguised annoyance. Finally, bolting upright and hurling the pillow in the direction of her closet door, Caitlin shrieked, "Dahlia, you have exactly _ten_ seconds to get out of my room before I call Houndoom to drag you out by your hair!"

The rummaging sounds ceased. The girl's eyes flashed ominously. "Five seconds left," she ground out, not particularly caring how murderous her voice currently sounded. "Four... three... two... one—"

The door creaked open, and the girl was dumbfounded to see not the Arcade Star guiltily clutching ribbons and dresses to her chest... but one pouty-looking _Tower Tycoon _instead. The female's face went mercifully blank. "Palmer, with all due respect, is this the part where I'm supposed to scream for an adult?" she deadpanned.

"What are you saying, Caitlin?" the blond Frontier Brain leader exclaimed with a gasp. "My actions are nothing but pure!"

"Pure? There's nothing pure about a thirty-something year old man frolicking around in my favorite evening gown! Which, by the way, doesn't fit you in the slightest—take it off already, before you rip all the seams." The princess frowned, shuddering in disgust. "Eww, on second thought, keep the dress. I don't ever want to see it again. In fact, I think I'm going to have to burn everything in this closet later. Just_ go away._"

Palmer gasped again. "But I don't want to leave yet!" he cried, tears sparkling in his eyes. The girl thought she could see some glitter on his lashes, and resisted the urge to throw up. The Tower Tycoon struck a rather Dahlia-esque pose, after bending his knees in a sad sort of attempt at a curtsy. "Don't I look just _gorgeous_?" he crowed, beaming.

Recoiling, the female Frontier Brain hid her face behind her hands. "This is borderline creepy," she mumbled. "Actually, forget the 'borderline' part—this is just plain disturbing. Seriously, Palmer, is there something wrong with you today? ...More than usual, I mean?"

"Nope! Nothing wrong with me. I just woke up this morning and thought it would be nice to embrace my feminine side a little more, and I must say, I think I do a damn fabulous job!" The man spun around in a circle, the ill-fitting dress fluttering along weakly. "What do you think, Caitlin? I look pretty great, don't I?" The girl resurfaced from behind her hands and immediately regretted her decision—for Palmer had leaned his hip to one side in a more risqué pose which, given that he was both middle-aged and male, made her feel slightly nauseous. "This dress," the man announced passionately, "shows off my sexy legs just _perfectly_!"

The princess willed herself not to look. It didn't work.

Mildly green in the face and feeling a bit mentally scarred at this point, Caitlin just hopped off her bed and, with deliberate calmness, crossed the room and exited through the door. Then she broke into a dead sprint through the hallways, burst out the Battle Castle's front door, and resolved to put as much distance between her and the evidently insane Tower Tycoon as possible.

"Oh, hell." The terrible mental images were _not_ fading away. Forget burning just her closet—at this point she'd have to burn the whole _Castle_ to the ground before she would be able to block the picture of Palmer in a dress from her mind.

* * *

The Battle Factory, the princess thought to herself, seemed to be the most logical place for her to escape from the Tower Tycoon. The blue, industrial facility, after all, was situated at the very opposite end from the Castle and, by extension, was the furthest away she could possibly get from the more-insane-than-usual Frontier Brain leader. After darting through the sliding glass doors, the girl leaned against the nearest wall and let out a groan. Closing her eyes, she massaged her forehead wearily.

The sound of approaching footsteps soon caught her attention. Eyes still closed, the female Brain sighed and said despondently, "Well, it's finally happened, Thorton. Palmer has gone clinically insane. To be perfectly honest, I'd always thought that Dahlia would be the first of us to snap..." The footsteps stopped abruptly. Paying no heed to this, Caitlin crossed her arms and at last opened her eyes to shoot the Factory Head a melancholy look—and promptly froze. After a few seconds worth of blank staring, the girl finally stated in a dumbfounded way, "...You're not Thorton."

And Dahlia, in a bored and sarcastic tone that was quite un-Dahlia-like, retorted, "Oh, brilliant deduction, detective. Quick, someone get this girl a medal."

Caitlin scowled. "Hey, I just suffered through one of the most horrifying, traumatic experiences of my _life_, I'll have you know! The Tower Tycoon trying on my dresses—does that not strike terror into your heart, Dahlia? The least you could do is act a little more sympathetic."

"You're acting like I gave some sort of indication that I was interested in your life story... which I'm not, by the way," the black-haired woman retaliated smoothly, rolling her eyes and looking uncharacteristically disinterested in the whole situation. "Oh, and judging from the look on your face, it really looks like nausea could strike you at any moment. Say, seventy-four percent? So if you're going to be sick or anything, do it outside. I just had all the floors in here cleaned."

The princess of the Battle Castle looked outraged at this, but curiosity soon took over. "...Okay, I'll bite. Why are you acting like this, anyway?"

"Like what?"

Caitlin's eye twitched. "Well, like you've finally grown a brain or something. No, wait, it's more like you're acting like Thorton. I mean, you're even dressed like him! It's kind of creepy, to be honest." True enough, the other Frontier Brain was wearing a sensible blouse-and-vest combo with a classy pair of dress pants, rather than her normal yellow shirt with the frilly, white collar and skinny jeans. She had even tied her wild hair back into a neat bun, and was poring over what looked like a pink version of the Factory Head's prized analysis machine. The overall effect made her look more like a serious businesswoman than the hyperactive Arcade Star that Caitlin was used to.

It was weird, to say the least.

Dahlia, on the other hand, appeared to be rather offended by the comparison. "Me? Acting like _Thorton_? Don't be stupid, why would I ever want to act like that luck-obsessed ditz? And besides, I've always dressed like this," she countered with an exasperated roll of her eyes. The woman then fixed her younger coworker with a critical eye. "...Paranoid today, aren't we?" she muttered distractedly, after a short pause. "Seriously, if anyone's acting weird here, it's you, Caitlin."

Before Caitlin could even attempt to respond to this (in her opinion, nonsensical) claim, the doors of the Battle Factory slid open once more, and—speak of the devil—Thorton waltzed right inside like he owned the place.

...Which, technically, he did_. _Not that the princess was placing a whole lot of faith in anything she thought she knew at this point. At any rate, her male coworker was looking far more happy and energetic than the girl had ever seen him before. "Hiya, Cait!" he chirped. The expression of manic cheerfulness on his face was actually a bit disturbing to see. "What are you doing here? Oh, hey, Dollie—" (Dahlia winced at the nickname) "—Dollie, listen, do you have any chocolate? I'm all out."

"Nope," the black-haired woman said promptly.

Her coworker deflated. "Well, what about cake? Ice cream? Cookies? Anything like that?"

"No, no, no, and lastly—no. Sorry to disappoint," the female replied, not sounding sorry in the slightest. Thorton pouted at this, taking a few seconds to stare forlornly at his feet. He then glanced up just in time to see the Battle Castle's princess whipping around and stomping off to the exit. "Where are you going, Cait?" he called curiously. The only response he received was an angry glare and a rude hand gesture. The teenaged boy frowned. "Huh, what's up with her?"

"I have no idea," Dahlia said blankly, with a small sigh. "But if you ask me, she's acting kind of strange today..."

* * *

"If this is everyone's idea of a joke," Caitlin fumed as she stalked out of the Factory, glancing back once to shoot the blue facility a deathly glare, "then it stinks even worse than Thorton's last attempt at cooking!" She rubbed her forehead tiredly. On one hand, she wanted nothing more than to retreat back to the Battle Castle for a much needed nap... but on the other hand, there was the underlying threat that a very gender-confused Palmer was still there prancing around in her dresses. Ugh.

So preoccupied with the horrific mental images flooding her mind, the princess didn't even notice the Hall Matron's presence until she bumped into her—literally. "Oh, Argenta, I didn't see—_sweet Piplups on a stick, _what is that you're wearing?" The girl stopped dead, one green eye twitching as her magenta-haired coworker whipped around and posed dynamically, her attire consisting of a skintight purple leotard, knee-high purple boots, purple gloves, purple sunglasses, and a billowing cape in a blinding shade of—yup, purple. At this point, Caitlin felt fairly certain that her eyes would start bleeding if she stared in the older woman's direction for too long.

Argenta held out one gloved hand authoritatively. "_Halt, evildoer!_ Your days of crime are at an end! Now I shall—oh, it's just you, Caitlin, never mind."

"Argenta, what are you _wearing_?"

"Shh!" The Hall Matron waved her hands around frantically, her expression one of heavy disapproval. "Don't use my name, you'll spoil my secret identity!"

The younger female groaned. "What secret identity? You have purple hair, for Arceus' sake. The only person you could possibly be mistaken for is Fantina, or maybe a really feminine version of Lucian. And by the way, if you happen to have any brain bleach, I'll take some now, thanks."

The older female huffed. "Nevertheless, I have to stay anonymous if I am to remain a crime fighter here in Sinnoh. But I still haven't thought of a cool name for myself yet." The woman flashed a wide grin. "So then, you can help me out! Quick, what's the first word that comes to mind when you look at me?"

"Delusional," Caitlin offered promptly, with a roll of her eyes. "And purple."

The Frontier-Brain-turned-superheroine deflated. "Um, that's more than one word."

"Just delusional, then."

"Well, that might be a little hard to work with, but I'll try." Heaving a small sigh, the magenta-haired female swept her cape behind her back and glanced around the area eagerly. "...So, uh, have you seen any crimes against humanity that need to be punished?" she asked the girl hopefully.

"Does that outfit you're wearing count as a crime against humanity?"

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself." Caitlin vaguely wished that the ground would open up and swallow her whole at this point—anything to escape further interaction with her fellow Frontier Brains who, for reasons unknown, all seemed to have gone _insane_ today. "Well, for starters," she said halfheartedly to the enthusiastically listening Argenta, "I think someone went ahead and switched Dahlia's happy pills with Thorton's stick-up-the-ass pills. And Palmer broke into my room earlier and was trying on all my dresses, so if you feel like going over and strangling him in his sleep tonight, I'm completely okay with that."

"Excellent!" The Hall Matron clapped her gloved hands together. "Any other crimes to report?"

"No, I think that's it."

"Fantastic!" Spinning on her heel and somehow emitting a flurry of colorful sparkles, the magenta-haired woman rose into the air and hovered off in the direction of the...

...Wait, what?

"Hold on, are you floating?" the princess asked, after blinking her eyes furiously. "How is that even possible?"

"Don't be ridiculous, anything is possible! You just need to _believe_!" Argenta shouted back with a wink. And then she disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.

Suffice to say, Caitlin was beginning to question her own sanity at this point.

* * *

"...Lady Caitlin?"

"Go away, Darach."

A pause. Then the Castle Valet tried again. "Why did you barricade the front door?"

"Because Palmer is finally gone, and I'd like to keep it that way."

A slightly longer pause. "And the locked windows?"

"To keep Argenta out. I just saw her flying around outside. Maybe she's a psychic too, and just never saw fit to tell me."

Darach sighed. "And," he finished meekly, "you rushed inside and shut yourself in the broom closet because..?"

"I'm hiding. Today's been a terrible day. I happen to be suffering from considerable emotional trauma incurred from running into a cross-dressing lunatic, two idiots who decided to switch personalities for no apparent reason, and a middle-aged woman who fancies herself a superheroine. Oh, and by the way, your presence is_ not _helping."

The butler frowned, though from behind the closed doors of the aforementioned closet where the girl was currently sitting with her legs drawn up to her chest in the fetal position, Caitlin couldn't see it. "But—"

"Go away."

"I just—"

"_Go away._"

Darach's shoulders slumped. Lamely, he attempted, "I can't... get to my cleaning supplies." The man was pushing his fingertips together nervously. The princess groaned. "You're dismissed from cleaning the Castle," she snapped. "Go away or you're fired."

"But it has to be cleaned today. The wedding is this evening!" the Castle Valet protested earnestly.

"_What_ wedding?"

"Karen and I are getting married! And Miss Cynthia's agreed to be the minister." The man clasped his hands together and held them to his heart romantically. "Oh, Lady Caitlin, isn't it wonderful?" he beamed.

The silence that immediately followed this revelation lasted an entire five minutes. Then the door to the broom closet slammed open with a burst of ominous psychic energy. Caitlin stomped out and placed her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes at the male Frontier Brain, who took an uncertain step backwards. "Are you drunk again?" the princess finally asked, staring at the man critically. "Or on drugs? Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?" She thrust a hand in Darach's face and extended her middle finger.

The Castle Valet cowered. "One," he answered, with a timid, apologetic smile. "And that's not very nice." He pushed his fingertips together again after a short pause, then finally said, "I really should get cleaning. After all, I'm supposed to be one hell of a butler, aren't I?"

"No, you're not. And stop trying to act cool."

"Oh, I almost forgot! I haven't even told you the best part of the news," the man exclaimed in a rambling fashion, the princess' rebuke apparently not even reaching his ears. "Don't you want to guess what it is?"

"You and Karen," Caitlin predicted sarcastically, "are going to make like Romeo and Juliet and commit a tragic double suicide so that I can finally have some peace and quiet around here?"

"No, it's even better." Darach's grin was almost as wide as Thorton's. "We're going to adopt you!"

What.

_What_.

_WHAT_.

And Caitlin, holding her head in her hands, squeezed her eyes shut and opened her mouth to scream and—

* * *

And the princess suddenly jolted awake, curled up on her bed, no insane coworkers in sight. For a moment, she did nothing more than stare blankly up at her ceiling. "It was... just a nightmare?" she murmured at last, not daring to believe her own words. Sitting upright, she glanced around her bedroom as if still expecting to see a dress-wearing Palmer peeking out from the closet. Satisfied that she was alone in the room, the girl reached over and pulled a Pokéball out from the drawer of her bedside table. Pushing the button in the center of the red-and-white sphere, she then released a purple-pink, tapir-like creature, which floated in the air lazily and regarded the Frontier Brain with curious eyes. Caitlin smiled.

"Hi there, Musharna," she said, with a weak laugh. "Listen, I have a dream I'd like you to get rid of..."

The next morning, Caitlin had to rush a severely disturbed Musharna to the nearest Pokémon Center.

* * *

** Caitlin's filthy rich, so let's just pretend that she paid to have a Unova Pokémon imported to her, even though she's still living in Sinnoh at the moment. :P**


	14. Meet The Elites!

**Apologies for the lateness of this chapter. I've had a combination of moving, work, and school eating up all my time lately.**

**As requested by ShadowDragonAmor. The Generation V Elites are fun to write. Especially Grimsley and Shauntal. We might be seeing more of them in future chapters. And you know what—I was listening to the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack, and in my headcanon, Grimsley has Michael Crawford's voice. Seriously, listen to his version of _The Music Of The Night_ and tell me that doesn't sound like Grimsley. Dat voice. Anyone agree? Anyone? _(crickets chirp)_**

**I'll try to finish part two and post it fairly soon (as I was writing this chapter, it was getting a pretty long and I haven't quite finalized the conclusion yet, so I decided to split it). After that will be a request from Master of Ice and Wuji Grey, and you guys can look forward to seeing a load of other characters like Steven, Wallace, Volkner, and the Hoenn Frontier Brains. It will be good! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.**

* * *

It was a typical scene that greeted Caitlin's eyes when she opened the door and stomped into the Unova Pokémon League's little kitchen. Shauntal was poring over her notebook so intensely that she was scarcely paying any attention to her fruit salad and kept missing her mouth with her fork on every other bite. Marshal and Alder, on the other hand, seemed to be embroiled in a fierce competition over who could demolish an entire stack of toast first. And lastly, Grimsley was situated at the stove, expertly wielding a spatula and wearing a gaudy 'Kiss the Cook' apron over his usual clothes.

Marshal was the first to notice the Psychic-type Elite's arrival. "Morning, sleepyhead," he managed through a stuffed mouth. "'Bout time you dragged your carcass out of bed and joined the rest of us in the world of the living." Rather than replying, Caitlin merely threw her hat into the martial artist's face and then took her usual seat haughtily. Alder seized this valuable opportunity to steal the last piece of toast and crammed it into his mouth victoriously, much to the Fighting-type specialist's dismay.

One eye twitching, the former Frontier Brain took a deep breath, steeling her nerves. Slamming both hands on the table, she drew herself up in a way that she hoped didn't seem too desperate. "Everyone," she began, after clearing her throat meaningfully. "Everyone, listen up. Something _extremely_ important has come up."

The young woman waited expectantly, and then frowned—only Alder and Grimsley were paying her the slightest bit of attention. Shauntal had muttered an absent "That's nice, Caity," while Marshal was rummaging loudly in the background, making more toast. The Dark-type Elite Four member raised one eyebrow.

"Don't tell me..." he said with a disbelieving shake of his head. "You're finally getting a haircut?"

Caitlin frowned. "No..."

"You're leaving the League to join the circus in Nimbasa?"

"No!"

"Wait, I've got it! You've decided to get a gender change operation—"

"Grimsley," Caitlin ground out, with utmost calm. "Shut. Up. Or. Else." The Psychic-type specialist was rescued from any further headache by the other female in the room, who surfaced from her notebook just long enough to glance around the room with a wrinkled nose. "What's that smell? Grims, I think your omelet might be burning..." the novelist said distractedly, and her male coworker uttered a curse and rushed back to the stove. Tucking her pen behind her ear for safekeeping, the purple-haired Elite smiled. "Um, now, what were you saying, Caity? Something important, right?"

The blonde-haired female heaved a heavy sigh. "Yes, right. Important. Extremely important." She closed her eyes and wearily rubbed her forehead. "I believe they wanted to make it a surprise, but word travels fast... Cynthia thought I ought to know ahead of time, and—"

"You going to tell us what's up sometime _today_, Caitlin?" Marshal interrupted impatiently, through another mouthful of toast. "Quit with the dramatic build-up. Only Shauntal cares about that kind of stuff, and only 'cause she's a writer."

"Really now, Marsh, you need to read more of my books instead of spending all your time beating up punching bags with Grims' face taped on them," the aforementioned novelist interjected brightly. "A little drama here and there is a good thing. A story is only as good as its delivery, everyone knows that!" The Ghost-type Elite suddenly looked sheepish. "Oh, geez, I'm sorry, Caity. I got us all off track again, didn't I?"

"Just a little, Shauntal." Caitlin managed a smile, though it looked more like a grimace. "Look, I'll make this quick and to the point. I just found out this morning that my old coworkers are coming to the Pokémon League to pay us a visit."

Alder blinked, tugging at his unruly crimson hair curiously. "Old coworkers? You mean your Battle Frontier friends in Sinnoh?" he asked.

"That's right. Apparently they flew into Mistralton last week on one of Skyla's planes... usually she only uses her aircraft to ship cargo, but I think she made a special exception because Cynthia was the one who arranged it all. Anyway, I guess they arrived at Opelucid two days ago and were going to talk legends with Drayden and Iris, and then make their way up here."

The Unova Champion frowned. "So they're at Opelucid now... that means they could be here as early as tomorrow."

"Knowing Palmer, that will probably be the case—he's always in a huge hurry, wherever he goes." The female Elite rolled her eyes, though she almost looked a bit nostalgic. "I'm sure Dahlia is dragging them all over the place sightseeing, though."

"Dahlia? A woman?" Grimsley broke in suddenly, looking up from where he was mournfully scraping the charred remains of his breakfast into the sink's garbage disposal. Innocently, he inquired, "Is she hot?" The man ducked just in time to dodge the telekinetically-thrown missile aimed at his head that was Caitlin's hat. "Ack, Caity, what was that for?"

"That was for asking me such an utterly moronic question!"

The raven-haired male waved his hands around, looking defensive. "Hey, I was just wondering. Besides, I thought you were into chicks, given how you spend so much time hanging around with Shaunty and that Sinnoh Champion in Undella every spring. What do you guys _do_ there, anyway?"

At this, Alder and Marshal both snorted loudly into their cups of coffee, while the purple-haired novelist took the time to look up from her writing and added rather unhelpfully, "Oh, speaking of Cynthia, what color bathing suit do you think she wears? I'm thinking black... or maybe white?"

"Shauntal, you're not helping my case here," the other female snapped. "And Grimsley, if you're really _that_ curious, then yes, I suppose she's physically attractive. But don't be getting any brilliant ideas, because she also happens to be about six years older than you."

The Dark-type trainer shrugged. "Eh, details. Besides, I like older women."

There was a brief scramble at the table during which Caitlin snatched up Marshal's last piece of toast and flung it in Grimsley's direction, smirking when the buttered side collided with the gambler's face after he failed to dodge in time. The Fighting-type Elite, on the other hand, slammed both fists on the table, nearly overturning it.

"What the _hell_, guys!" he roared. "Is today 'steal Marshal's toast day' or something?"

* * *

"So, let me make sure I've got this straight," Grimsley stated, after some fifteen minutes of Caitlin further explaining the situation. "Coming to visit us in as little as one day, we've got a maniacal lunatic, a grandma, a nerd with a fetish for machinery, a sexy female gambler-slash-dancer, and a neat freak who used to be your personal bitch."

"There is a plethora of things wrong with what you just said, but yes, I suppose the basic idea is correct," the Psychic-type Elite grumbled. Alder clapped her on the shoulder with one large hand, flashing a confident grin. "Oh, don't look so down, Caitlin. I'm sure things will go fine!" he laughed. "I mean, we all handled that Team Plasma fiasco well, didn't we? A little thing like this has got to be a piece of cake in comparison."

"Uh, Alder?" Marshal interjected doubtfully, raising one thick eyebrow. "In case you don't remember, that 'Team Plasma fiasco' resulted in all five of us getting our asses trounced by that green-haired weirdo and his legendary dragon."

"_Thoroughly_ trounced!" Shauntal added cheerfully. "Although, I did get some fantastic ideas for my novel from that incident..." The glasses-wearing young woman smiled. "Hey, look, we'll all be on our best behavior tomorrow, so you've got nothing to worry about, Caity. I can't wait to meet your friends!" She tilted her head to one side in thought. "I suppose it's been some time since you've last seen them, huh?"

"That's true," Caitlin affirmed. The blonde-haired female's eyes were suddenly emotional. "It really has been a long time." A few seconds later, however, her expression grew serious once more. "So, I'll only say this once. _You guys had better not mess this up_." Then, rising from her seat and turning on her heel with a flourish, she stalked out of the kitchen.

The Dark-type Elite smirked slightly. "Heh, that sounds like a challenge to me."

"Grims, I wouldn't try anything if I were you," Shauntal hummed. "This seems pretty important to her. I haven't seen Caity look so stressed since that Bianca girl mistook her hair for a wild Stoutland and pelted her with Pokéballs."

Marshal snorted. "I remember that. It was hilarious. And then she screamed at me for laughing at her. I don't think my eardrums ever fully recovered."

"Well, Shauntal is right, at any rate," the red-haired Unova Champion chuckled, draining the coffee in his mug. "This does seem to be of utmost importance to Caitlin. So, you three—let's try to take this seriously, okay?"

Grimsley snorted. "That's pretty rich coming from the man who shirks his Pokémon League duties in favor of roaming the region for days at a time."

"Says the Elite who wastes half of his paycheck gambling," Alder retaliated blandly.

"Ah, touché."

* * *

Palmer, elegant as always, stumbled out of the cavernous Victory Road and nearly sank to his knees, gasping for breath. "I just got chased to hell and back by the most evil-looking little dragon thing ever," he wheezed, still doubled over. "It kept trying to bite me—Giratina's sake, I think it was trying to _eat_ me."

"I believe the Pokémon you ran into is called a Deino," Thorton replied in a bored tone. "They're said to be particularly aggressive. It probably attacked because it sensed you were alone." Critically, the Factory Head then added, "It's about time you made it up here to the exit, by the way."

"Oh, right, like it's _my_ fault I got separated from the rest of you guys!" The blond man shot a furious glare at the Arcade Star, who quickly plastered an innocent and angelic smile on her face. "Dahlia, I trust you had a _good_ reason for pushing me off the edge at that last level, right?" he managed to grind out, still fuming.

The black-haired woman didn't even have the shame to look guilty. "It wasn't _that_ steep of a drop," she reasoned, shrugging. "Plus, it was pretty funny watching you slide all the way back down to the lowest level."

Palmer grabbed two fistfuls of his own hair, grinding his teeth together in ill-concealed frustration. "Arceus damn it, I could have died down there! You're lucky there wasn't a layer of pointy rocks at the bottom. Or a cactus. What would you have done if I'd landed on a cactus?"

"Laughed my head off and taken some pictures," the hyperactive woman answered cheekily. Her male coworker groaned.

Looking rather exasperated, Argenta let out a sigh. "Can we all stop acting like children and actually focus on the task at hand here?" she chided, shooting all four of her fellow Frontier Brains a severe look.

Darach winced. "Really, Miss Argenta, there's no need to glare at Thorton and me."

"Yeah," the Factory Head piped up. "It's the other two who are acting like idiots here."

"Even so," the magenta-haired Hall Matron grumbled, "given how we've all done nothing but yell at each other for the last five minutes, it's a miracle no one's come down to investigate yet. Let's review why we're here. Dahlia?"

"We're here to pay Cait a surprise visit, of course!" the other female answered promptly.

"Right." Argenta crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes sternly. "Now, was pushing Palmer off a cliff a good way to keep our presence secret?"

Dahlia deflated. "...Well, when you put it _that_ way, probably not. Especially since he screamed obscenities the whole way down."

"Well, disregarding Palmer's admirable penchant for colorful language... now that we're all here, shouldn't we try heading over to the League? The entrance is right there." Still looking rather bored, Thorton pointed a finger at said entrance: an impressive pair of carved stone pillars standing guard in front of the four towers jutting out of the ground, and the looming Colosseum-esque structure further back still. The Factory Head walked several paces closer and then stopped dead. "...Huh. That's weird."

"What is?" Palmer grunted impatiently, as he and the remaining Brains approached the entrance as well.

"If you look closely, there seems to be a tripwire strung between these two pillars." Thorton's eyes widened in alarm. "Wait, no, don't walk _through_ it, you idiot—"

The warning came too late, for the Tower Tycoon had already taken a bold step through the matching stone structures, his boot snagging on the wire—and barely half a second later, an additional wire suspended in the air pulled taut and upended a bucket hidden on the left pillar, prompting a rain of fruity-scented liquid to splash over the group. The Frontier Brain leader got the brunt of the unexpected shower—his pant legs up to his knees, as well as one shoulder, were now thoroughly drenched—though the others were too slow in dodging to avoid receiving soaked shoes. Only Thorton, who had managed to smartly jump away to a safe distance, remained completely dry.

There was a brief pause.

"Well then," Darach finally spoke up, breaking the silence. "This is already off to a lovely start."

"Tell me about it." Leaning down, Argenta swiped a gloved finger through the sticky, pinkish puddle at their feet and brought it to her face, inhaling cautiously. She pulled a face. "Berry juice? I didn't know Shuckle could be found in Unova..." With a shrug, the magenta-haired woman sighed and turned to face Thorton, who was still examining the tripwire with a frown on his face. After a moment, the Factory Head stated flatly, "A lot of things about this region are still new to me, but unless this is how the Unova League usually greets its challengers, I think it's safe to say that Caitlin already knew we were coming."

Dahlia pouted. "I'll bet Cynthia went ahead and spoiled the surprise..."

And then, right on cue, the former princess of the Battle Castle dashed out of her room, stopped dead at the sight of the five Frontier Brains, and promptly did a facepalm. "Oh _no_," she groaned.

"What are you saying '_oh no_' for, Cait?" the Arcade Star exclaimed indignantly. "Aren't you happy to see us? And what was with that bucket of berry juice you had sitting over the entrance?" She gestured down at her newly sticky and sweet-smelling shoes. "That was a pretty cold reception to give your old friends, wouldn't you agree?"

"Never mind that, Dahlia," Palmer interrupted forcibly, rushing ahead to stand at the former Frontier Brain's side. "Can't you see that there's a giant monster attacking Caitlin's head?" He swatted around the Psychic-type Elite's face, and then paused. "...Oh, wait, it's just your hair."

"Very funny," Caitlin grumbled. She stepped back in surprise when the Hall Matron walked forward and handed her a bundle of mangled-looking plant stalks, tied together with a gaudy red ribbon. "Um, Argenta, what is this?"

"A bouquet," the magenta-haired Brain said sheepishly. "At least, it _used_ to be a bouquet. Palmer's Rhyperior ate the flowers off of it... sorry."

The Elite shook her head at the Tower Tycoon. "That Pokémon of yours is an abomination."

"Your hair is an abomination," the blond man countered defensively, and immediately received a stomped foot in response.

"...We brought chocolates, too," Thorton spoke up while rolling his half-lidded eyes, "but Dahlia ate those."

Mortified, the aforementioned black-haired female squeaked, "Thor, don't tell her that! ...Besides, they weren't even labeled, so how the hell was I supposed to know?"

Caitlin sighed at this, but the relaxed look on her face showed that she was more happy than annoyed. "Well, I see you guys haven't changed a bit," she said with a yawn. "It's so nice for the six of us to be together again..." The Elite smiled. "Have you been enjoying Unova? It's really a great region, and my coworkers here at the Pokémon League are wonderful to work alongside—"

And at that precise moment, Grimsley took the time to bolt through the area and nearly barreled into Argenta. "Hi, Caity. Bye, Caity," he managed to call over his shoulder, before turning the corner and disappearing from view. Seconds later, a very disgruntled Marshal stomped over to the group, looking murderous. "Where's Grimsley?" the martial artist ground out through clenched teeth.

Caitlin gestured vaguely with one hand. "He went that way. What happened?"

"What happened? What _happened? _He filled all of my socks with Skitty litter, that's what happened!" Marshal cracked his knuckles, still grinding his teeth together. The blonde-haired female Elite shook her head, raising a hand to rub her temples. "Marshal, don't kill him, okay?" she sighed, and her bored tone of voice suggested that this sudden turn of events was anything but unusual.

"Oh, I'm not going to kill him. I'm just going to kick his scrawny ass so high in the air that he'll burst into flames after coming back down!" Still grumbling to himself, the Fighting-type specialist stormed away in the direction Caitlin had indicated.

"...Um, you were saying, Lady Caitlin?" Darach said politely, after clearing his throat awkwardly.

The former princess took a deep breath. "Yes, as I was saying... the trainers I work alongside here are wonderful, hard-working, and very—"

"—Hey, Caity!" Shauntal suddenly bounced up, dancing on her heels excitedly. "Listen, I just realized you never answered my question from yesterday morning. You know, the one I had about Cynthia's bathing suit? So, do you think she wears a black suit or a white suit? Or maybe—" the purple-haired novelist snapped her fingers in sudden inspiration, "—maybe she wears both! You know, like one part could be black and the other is white, and..." The Ghost-type Elite paused in mid-sentence, shrinking back a little. "...Caity, why are you glaring at me like that?"

Caitlin, with what seemed to be a great deal of difficulty, managed to flash the writer a smile. "It's nothing, Shauntal, don't worry about it. Listen, could you find Grimsley and Marshal and bring them over here? Oh, and make sure they're not strangling each other."

"Sure thing!" And the glasses-wearing young woman skipped away with a wave.

There was a short silence.

"Go on, Caitlin," Thorton said with a smirk. "I believe you were saying something funny."

The Psychic-type specialist's left eye twitched. "The five of us... work well together... as a team—"

"—Caitlin! I need help with the computer again!" Alder walked up, his untidy red hair looking even more frazzled than usual. "I was trying to access the Pokémon storage system, but somehow I got the damn thing stuck on that blue screen of death. I called Amanita over in Striaton City, and she said I probably shouldn't have been hitting all the keys at once." The Champion blinked, suddenly seeming to take notice of the group of bemused Frontier Brains. "...Oh, uh, hi there. You guys are Caitlin's friends from Sinnoh, huh? Welcome to the Unova region," he said lamely.

"Alder, go and grab the others. And do it quickly, before anything else possibly goes wrong." The blonde-haired Elite Four member pointed a menacing finger in the direction that Grimsley and presumably Marshal and Shauntal had disappeared. Waving his hands around disarmingly, the Champion backed away and trudged off with a benign shrug, humming to himself.

Stretching her arms over her head and looking as though she was biting her tongue to keep from laughing, Dahlia flashed the former princess a wide grin. "Okay then, Cait, please continue," she chirped.

Another deep breath. "We work well together as a team... and I've spent a lot of time practicing my skills both as a psychic and as a Pokémon trainer... I'm very well-adjusted—"

"Pokéball, _go_!" came a sudden cry from somewhere off to the side, and a red-and-white spherical object suddenly hurtled through the air, missing Caitlin by a scarce inch and smacking Darach in the forehead. The Castle Valet flinched. "...Ow."

"Cheren, what happened? Did I miss?" A bubbly-looking teenaged girl hopped up to the group, blonde hair bouncing underneath her green beret. A boy with black hair and glasses who looked to be about the same age as her followed closely behind, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning in exasperation. "Seriously, Bianca," he grumbled. "Do you always have to charge ahead like that without looking first?"

The girl stuck her tongue out. "Well, _you're_ the one who's always complaining that I'm never on time for anything. Make up your mind already, geez!" She glanced around wildly. "So, where's the Stoutland? Did I catch it or what?"

"Okay, number one," Cheren sighed, rubbing his temples wearily, "Stoutland are exceedingly rare in the wild, so you're hardly likely to find one in a place like this. Number two, that wasn't even a Stoutland to begin with, that was a _person_. And number three—for the love of Zekrom's turbine tail, Bianca, you did this same exact thing last week, remember?"

Bianca paused. "I did what?"

"Tried to throw Pokéballs at a member of the Elite Four whose hair you somehow mistook for a giant canine."

"...Oh. Um, whoops." The blonde-haired girl laughed nervously, adjusting her beret over her head and scuffing at the ground with her feet. "Uh, sorry for any disturbance Cheren and I may have caused," she attempted, blushing slightly from embarrassment. She let out a squeak of fear upon catching sight of Caitlin, who was shooting her a furious glare comparable to all three heads of an angry Hydreigon. "W-we'll just, er, leave then, shall we?"

"Please do," the Psychic-type Elite managed to grind out, one eye twitching ominously. "Leave. Now. _Or else I'll destroy you_."

"Eep! Okay, okay, we're going already... please don't kill us... C'mon, Cheren!" And the two trainers quickly dashed away.

Caitlin buried her face in her hands. "This is all going wrong. I think the world hates me today."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Argenta argued with an amused giggle. "It's clear you've improved greatly from where you were when you lived in Sinnoh. Back then, your powers probably would have blown something up by now. I'm impressed." The Hall Matron quirked an eyebrow. "...Still, I hope we're not burdening you with this surprise visit."

The Elite heaved a weary sigh. "Well, to be perfectly honest, Unova _has_ been really busy lately. Don't get me wrong, I'm overjoyed to see you all again, but there's been a lot going on. It's been pretty stressful."

The black-haired Arcade Star blinked in realization. "Oh, is that why you never answer your phone when I call, Cait? Because you've been too busy?"

"Dahlia, the reason I don't answer your calls is because you can never seem to remember that there's a thirteen hour time difference between Sinnoh and Unova. Thirteen hours! Whenever you call—which to my misfortune happens to be at least three times a week—it's always two in the morning here. It's no wonder why my challengers tell me I look tired, what with my phone waking me up every other time I try to sleep."

The hyperactive Frontier Brain's shoulders slumped in defeat. Defensively, she piped up, "Well, why don't you ever call back on your own time?"

"Because," Caitlin said laboriously, as if explaining a concept to an inattentive child, "like I said before, Unova has been _busy_. There have been a number of important issues here that only just recently got resolved, and all of them were at _least_ as bad as that Team Galactic mess we had in Sinnoh, if not worse..."

Dahlia blinked. "A Team-Galactic-sized issue, huh? What, were you scheduled to get a haircut or something?"

The Psychic-type specialist twitched. "No..."

"Maybe you were thinking of quitting the Pokémon League and joining the circus they have advertised in that Nimbasa place?"

"No!"

"Well then, were you possibly considering getting one of those gender change operations—"

"Have you been talking to Grimsley?" Caitlin snapped.

"No," the female Brain said innocently. "Who's that?"

"The guy with the dark hair and yellow scarf who ran by earlier. Oh, and I should add that he's a bit of a prankster. I'm sure he was the one who put that bucket of berry juice over the entrance."

"Really? Wow, that was kind of asshole-ish of him," the Arcade Star hummed conversationally. "Oh well. He was sort of cute. I like younger guys."

_Thud_. Letting out a groan of utter defeat, Caitlin had just walked over to the nearest wall and was now hitting her head against it. Repeatedly.

* * *

**Poor Caitlin couldn't seem to catch a break this chapter. It's like the Cynthia visit all over again, only this time she's the victim instead of Palmer. The horror! :P**

**Just a little note to keep in mind: Caitlin's hair seems to have gone from light brown to blonde in the Gen IV-V timeskip, so if I'm describing her hair, it'll depend on the timeframe. My theory is that when she goes with Cynthia and Shauntal to the villa in Undella, the sun bleaches her hair lighter. Or something like that.  
**


	15. And Then It All Got Worse

******Part two is here. Whew, this gave me a little bit of trouble. I'm not quite sure if I'm happy with this chapter or not. But on a brighter note, we're almost at 100 reviews! :D**

**Alder and the Elites were uber fun to write. At some point in the future, we'll probably have a chapter where they come visiting the Frontier. Might bring Ingo and Emmet along for the ride, as well. Coming up next is ********Master of Ice and Wuji Grey's request. It will contain plenty of craziness!**

******(NOTE: I've recently received a question from an anon wondering how old the characters are in this story. This is just my headcanon, but the Gen IV ages of the Frontier Brains are something like this: Caitlin and Thorton are both about 17 (Caitlin is confirmed to canonically be 14, but who cares). Dahlia and Darach are 23 and 22, respectively. Palmer is about 37. Argenta is 40.)  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.**

* * *

The blond-haired Tower Tycoon, sprawled out on one of the plush couches in the Unova League's cozy sitting room, stretched his arms over his head and heaved a loud yawn. "So then, Alder, was it?" he asked the red-haired Champion sitting a few seats to his left. "I'm not too familiar with this region, but I was still wondering... do you guys happen to have a Frontier here? Anything like that?"

Alder rubbed at his stubbly chin, giving a shrug in response. "Well, we have the Battle Subway, but I doubt it's as elaborate as some of your Frontier facilities, given what we've heard from Caitlin."

"A Battle Subway?" Palmer echoed. After a short pause, a doubtful frown spread across the man's face. "So," the Frontier Brain leader continued slowly, "is that like... a sandwich shop... where you battle people?"

Shauntal managed to stifle a giggle by burying her face in the folds of her puffy, black scarf. "No, no, it's a subway _train_ station!" she laughed. "You battle in the subway trains!"

"In the trains? While they're in _motion_?" the blond repeated, still frowning.

Argenta piped up, "Isn't that kind of dangerous?"

The Ghost-type Elite's eyebrows raised. "Well... maybe a little bit, I guess. But I'm sure there are a ton of safety measures in place, because there haven't been any accidents yet. Besides, it _has_ to be safer than Skyla's place, with all the cannons shooting you through the air and stuff." The novelist smiled again. "The Gear Station is in Nimbasa, but I think Caity said you guys flew directly into Mistralton, so you probably didn't get a chance to see it, right? Shame you couldn't meet the Subway Bosses, they're pretty cool... even though Ingo is always frowning and Emmet has a habit of reintroducing himself every other sentence."

"Well, that's not too bad, to be honest," Thorton reasoned in a dry voice. The Factory Head, perched on the armrest of the couch the Tower Tycoon was reclining in, was entering data into his analysis machine. Without looking up from his work, he added to Shauntal, "I mean, Palmer here sleeps with a stuffed Piplup at night and Darach spends two hours every day reorganizing his sock drawer. Doesn't get any weirder than that."

(Ignoring Palmer's indignant snarl of _"I do not, you little liar!"_ and Darach's quiet protest of _"M-maybe one hour, at the most, but definitely not two hours..."_) Caitlin, in a voice that suggested she was feeling thoroughly creeped out at this, deadpanned, "Okay, Thorton, I don't even want to know how you know all that."

Perhaps sensing an argument brewing in the future, Alder wisely took the time to steer the conversation back on track, clearing his throat and stating evasively, "Back to talking about the Battle Subway... The trains run through the entire Unova region, so they're really just as important for traveling as they are for battling. In fact, you Frontier Brains probably saw some of them when you crossed Tubeline Bridge on the way to Opelucid."

The black-haired Arcade Star, who had been relatively quiet up until now, snapped her fingers in sudden realization. "Hey, now that you mention it, I think we did see a few trains when we passed over that bridge Friday night," she chirped brightly. "Not that we had much time to check it out, though, on account of us getting hassled by a random group of biker thugs..."

Marshal frowned. "Oh, the Black Darmanitan causing trouble again?"

"I thought they were called the Black Scrafty," Grimsley said with a quirked eyebrow.

"Darmanitan? Scrafty? No, these punks were calling themselves the Black Stunfisk... whatever that means. But anyway, Darach and I kicked their sorry butts in a double battle, so ha!" Dahlia pumped her fist in the air smugly.

"I do wish you could have seen the battle, Lady Caitlin," Darach added somewhat regretfully. "And furthermore... at the end, when we defeated them, the leader of the gang changed their name to the Black Empoleon. Strange, no?"

"Well, that's only because you sent out your Pokémon first," the Arcade Star interjected, crossing her arms in a jokingly grumpy fashion. "Seriously, I still think the Black _Blaziken_ would've been a much cooler name."

"But, Miss Dahlia... Blaziken don't even have any black on their bodies, do they?"

"What's your point, Dar?"

Rolling her eyes at this one-sided argument, Caitlin then shot the other Frontier Brains a look of disgust. "So, what were the rest of you guys doing while those two fought off a bunch of gang members? Just hanging around?"

"_I_ was admiring the horizon," the Hall Matron defended, holding up both hands disarmingly. "I think Thorton was checking out the architecture of the bridge, and Palmer was trying to figure out what a Stunfisk was... What is a Stunfisk, anyway?"

"Stunfisk are like... the horrific result of what would happen if a Magikarp and a Pikachu mated... and then the offspring was sat on by a Snorlax... and painted brown and yellow," the female Elite replied blandly, after taking a few moments to ponder the question. At this, Dahlia choked on her glass of chocolate milk and sprayed its contents everywhere. "Hold on a minute, are you serious?" the Arcade Star sputtered in between coughs. "Damn it... with a description like that, now I _have_ to go catch one for my team." Finally catching her breath again, the black-haired Frontier Brain shrugged her shoulders and flashed the former princess a wide grin. "Anyway, Cait, not to change the subject, but I was meaning to ask you... how do you like being an Elite? How many challengers do you get every day? Do you ever miss Sinnoh? What kind of initiation did you have?"

Waving an arm at the barrage of questions, the Psychic-type specialist closed her eyes and took a deliberately calm breath. "Slow down, I... wait, what was that last one?"

"Your initiation into the Pokémon League, of course," Dahlia said impatiently. "Don't tell me you got accepted without having to go through some painful and embarrassing ordeal first!" She whipped around to shoot the Hall Matron a quizzical look. "Hey, 'Genta, what was your Frontier Brain initiation again?"

Argenta's face took on an expression reminiscent of someone who had suffered through an emotionally scarring event and wished for nothing more than to forget it entirely. "My initiation? ...I believe I had to dye my hair turquoise and dress up in a Team Galactic uniform, while allowing any passersby to throw tomatoes at me."

The hyperactive Arcade Star looked indignant at this. "What? That's all you had to do? That's nothing—_I_ had to unicycle three laps around the entire Frontier in my undergarments while singing Crasher Wake's theme song."

Suddenly interested, the Dark-type gambler glanced up from his playing cards and piped up, "Undergarments, huh?"

"Grimsley, shut up," Caitlin said automatically. "And no, Dahlia, I didn't have to do anything like that."

"Aw, that's no fun."

* * *

Idle chitchat could only go so far—after one or two hours of sharing more embarrassing stories, a certain level of boredom had descended on the group of Frontier Brains and League members. Shauntal had pulled her notebook back out and was showing a genuinely interested Argenta her latest novel in the making and Grimsley was playing solitaire, but Palmer, never known for being particularly patient, heaved a long-suffering groan. "Well, this is tons of fun, just sitting around doing nothing," the blond man huffed, his voice heavy with exasperation. "Seriously, what do you guys do to have a good time around here?"

"Well, we hardly had any time to prepare for guests, you know," Caitlin snapped. "And besides, this is more-or-less how a typical afternoon goes for us, anyway—Alder spends most of his time either roaming the land or cursing at the computer system, Shauntal is usually working on her novels, Marshal practices his fighting techniques, and Grimsley sinks further into debt after gambling his salary away."

"And Caity spends four-fifths of her day sleeping and being generally unproductive," the aforementioned Dark-type specialist interjected snidely. Ignoring the psychic's furious glare, the raven-haired Elite continued, "Back on topic, though, I have a couple decks of cards here. If everyone's up for it, we could all play a game of—"

"—Strip poker!" Dahlia cheered.

Grimsley blinked. "...Well, I was going to suggest roulette, but hey, I'm okay with that too."

"We are _not_ playing strip poker," the former princess of the Battle Castle spat out fumingly. "Look, how about we all just—"

"What about spin the bottle?" the Arcade Star attempted innocently.

_Thud. Thud. Thud. _Much to Darach's concern, a despondent-looking Caitlin had resumed her previous position of rhythmically hitting her head against the nearest wall. Fortunately for the blonde-haired psychic, however, Thorton spoke up next and spared her the agony of having to respond to Dahlia's latest suggestion. "We are not," the Factory Head stated flatly, "playing that idiotic party game."

"Why the hell not, Thor? You're always such a killjoy."

"Well, like I said, it's an entirely idiotic game. And also, the fact that we don't even have a bottle could prove to be a problem."

The black-haired female crossed her arms in a defiant display of stubbornness. "Eh, that's no big deal—_I'll_ just be the bottle." She pointed wildly between Palmer and Marshal. "You two, kiss! And make it snappy!"

At this, the Tower Tycoon and martial artist both shot the woman a very disturbed look.

Breaking the brief silence that followed, Grimsley spoke up again with a raised eyebrow. "For the love of Reshiram's fluffy crotch plumage, Caity," he said with a somewhat sardonic chuckle. "Your friends are even weirder than you said they were."

And at the gambler's words, all activity in the room suddenly ceased.

"...She called us weird?" Argenta asked faintly, frowning as she tore her eyes away from Shauntal's open notebook. "That's cold, Caitlin, real cold." To the Dark-type Elite, the magenta-haired Frontier Brain questioned further, "What else did she say about us?"

Flushed with a mixture of rage and alarm, the female psychic jumped to her feet and pointed a menacing finger in her male coworker's direction. "Grimsley, don't you dare—"

Looking thoroughly amused, the gambler reclined in his seat and quite deliberately raised his voice to drown out Caitlin's furious protests. "Well, for starters," the raven-haired man began in a cheery, conversational tone, "she called you an old hag, and said if you wore any more makeup you'd look like her Gothitelle. Also, she thinks your sunglasses are hideous."

Palmer let out a low whistle as the Hall Matron made a few angry squeaking noises in the background. "Ouch, that's gotta hurt."

"As for you," Grimsley continued, cocking his head to one side as he considered the Frontier Brain leader, "Caity said the reason you run a giant tower is because you're probably compensating for something..."

"_What?_" the blond man yelped.

"...and she also said you were a moron with no sense of direction."

"Can't argue with that, Blockhead Tycoon, now can we?" Thorton hummed. The Factory Head's smug expression faded as the irate Frontier Brain leader lunged forward and pulled him into a headlock. "So, Grimsley, right?" the blond panted. "Tell me—what did our lovely ex-princess have to say about this little asshole here?" He gestured down with a gloved hand, nearly poking Thorton in the eye.

"Oh, nothing much, to be honest. Just that he has zero social skills and an obsession with machines that's almost as scary as Shaunty's weird fixation on the color of Cynthia's bathing suit..." The Dark-type trainer trailed off, he and the other occupants of the room all watching in vague entertainment as the Factory Head finally managed to duck beneath Palmer's arm, planting a vicious elbow in the blond man's stomach for good measure.

Still wearing an amused smirk, the gambler turned next to face Darach, who halfheartedly smiled in a resigned fashion. "Whatever you're about to say," the Castle Valet sighed, "I'm sure I've already heard it before."

"Gee, that's kind of depressing," the Elite grinned. "Well, to start, she called you a doormat—"

"Heard it already. On several occasions."

"—freakishly obsessive-compulsive—"

"Lady Caitlin used to call me that at least twice a day when she lived in the Battle Castle." The butler's voice was almost bored.

"—and a bit of a masochist."

Darach paused. "...Ah. That's actually a new one."

Leaning forward and cocking her head to one side, Dahlia's expression was now one of rapt eagerness. In rather stark contrast to the other Frontier Brains, all of whom looked less than happy at this point in time, the Arcade Star alone still wore a cheerful grin on her face. "So, what did she say about me?" she chirped, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as if the conversation was about nothing more than a new movie in the theaters. "Go one, tell me! I can handle it!"

"Hmm. First of all, Caity thinks you're a sugar-high lunatic with absolutely no restraint and hair that has a life of its own..."

The black-haired Brain flashed a cheeky grin and stifled a laugh with one hand. "What? Oh, come on, Caitlin, you can come up with better insults than _that_. Besides, that comment about my hair is blatant hypocrisy at its best, considering the monstrosity on _your_ head."

"And she also said you had a nice ass," Grimsley finished with an innocent shrug.

Her smile finally faltering upon hearing this last statement, Dahlia shot the Psychic-type Elite Four member a perturbed look. "...Um, well then. I'm, uh, deeply flattered, Cait, but I don't swing that way."

The psychic opened her mouth to protest, but perhaps due to the sheer mortification the past five minutes had incurred on her, no sound came out—she contented herself instead with shooting the raven-haired gambler a look of pure murder. The remaining members of the Unova Pokémon League, on the other hand, all wore puzzled expressions on their faces. Shauntal closed her notebook with a snap and regarded the Dark-type specialist with a doubtful frown and furrowed eyebrows. Tilting her head to one side, the novelist murmured after a brief pause, "Grims, I don't remember Caity's descriptions being quite so mean-spirited and harsh."

"I don't remember them being so perverted," Marshal added.

"And I don't recall them being so specific," Alder finished.

"That's because I never said any of that!" Caitlin finally managed to squeak out, her voice several octaves higher than normal. "...Or even if I _did_ say something similar, I assure you whatever Grimsley just regurgitated back was heavily edited."

Thorton rolled his eyes. "Oh, really? Personally, I thought it all sounded about seventy-nine percent accurate. Except the part about me, of course. That bit was completely off the mark." The Factory Head turned around to shoot a questioning look at his blonde-haired former coworker, who had once again risen to her feet. "Where are you going now?"

"I'm going to go hit my head against the wall some more. Perhaps if I'm lucky, I'll fall unconscious and forget everything that's happened today."

"Oh, don't do that, Cait!" Dahlia exclaimed, as Darach worriedly leapt up and tugged the female Elite back to her seat. "I read in a magazine that repeated head trauma can stunt brain growth, you know. I mean, just look at Palmer."

"_What?_" the Tower Tycoon yelped, outraged, for the second time that day.

* * *

"Everybody! I'm back with the takeout!" The cry came from the bespectacled Ghost-type Elite, who floated lazily through the air in the ribbon-like arms of her Drifblim. Alder clapped her on the shoulder as she returned the purple balloon creature to its Pokéball, taking one of the many precariously-balanced boxes of food from her arms. "Thanks, Shauntal," the Champion laughed. "Good flight?"

"Oh, it was a little windy—in fact, we almost sailed right past Opelucid! Next time I might fly down with Golurk instead. Poor Drifblim's too light to do anything about those air currents." The purple-haired novelist pushed a few more boxes in Alder's direction, and then dumped the remainder into an unsuspecting Grimsley's arms. The Dark-type Elite nearly staggered with the weight. "Geez, Shaunty, how much food did you buy?" he grumbled. The raven-haired man then craned his neck to peer around the stack of takeout boxes balanced in his grip and shot Caitlin a meaningful look. "Hey, Caity, help me get this stuff to the table, will you?"

Sitting comfortably on the nearest couch, the blonde woman gave him a look of deepest venom. "Absolutely not."

"Don't be such a drama queen—just use your magical psychic powers and help me already. My arms are about to fall off!"

"No. Carry them yourself, you jerk."

"...Help me, please?"

"Grimsley, if you ask again I'm going to make that topmost container explode in your face."

"No, Caity, no!" Shauntal squealed, waving her hands around frantically. "That box has the noodles in it! If you have to blow up one of the takeout boxes, at least do it to one that doesn't contain my favorite order."

"Hey, don't encourage her!" the gambler protested in alarm. He shot the former Frontier Brain a glare. "Really now... I don't know why you're so mad at me, anyway."

"You know perfectly well why I'm mad at you!" Caitlin hissed in response, eyes narrowed. "You completely twisted everything I said before. I _never_ called Argenta old, my jabs at Palmer's intelligence were made in a joking manner at most, and I definitely do _not_ possess any sort of attraction in the slightest to Dahlia's behind!"

"Did someone say my name?" the aforementioned Arcade Star piped up.

"Caity says your butt is cute," the Dark-type Elite Four member answered promptly, in a childishly vindictive fashion. He looked as though he wanted to say more, but any further comment was cut off as the topmost box of food in his arms exploded with a burst of psychic energy, splattering cheese and salsa everywhere. Shauntal clapped her hands over her mouth.

"My noodles!" she cried, nearly falling to her knees. "...Oh, wait, those weren't the noodles after all—they're Marshal's enchiladas. Whew, what a relief."

"My enchiladas!" the Fighting-type specialist howled.

With an admirable effort, Grimsley finally managed to dump the remaining boxes onto the nearest object with a sufficiently flat surface, which happened to be the little coffee table by Caitlin's couch. "Oh, great, make a huge fuss about the _food_," he said loudly_._ "Nice to know that noodles and enchiladas rank higher on everyone's scale than my well-being. I think I'm blind now thanks to all this extra-spicy salsa in my eyes."

And then, right on cue, Argenta poked her head around the corner and swept her gaze across the room. Cautiously eyeing the remnants of the exploded takeout box, the magenta-haired woman murmured, "Hey, we aren't going to have a repeat of Cynthia's dinner visit, are we?"

"I thought we all agreed to never mention that night again," Caitlin grumbled.

Perking up a bit, the Ghost-type specialist's eyes widened behind her round glasses. She leaned forward conspiratorially. "Ooh, I don't remember ever hearing _this_ story before... What happened? Tell me, tell me!"

"Well, Palmer once arranged for Cynthia to visit the Battle Frontier... the situation eventually got out of hand, though, and the whole thing ended up turning into a giant food fight and nearly ruined everything—" The former princess paused. "...Wait, why do you want to know about this so badly?"

"Um... I'm just curious?" The novelist quickly tucked her pen and notebook behind her back and out of view. Caitlin noticed this and scowled. "You are _not_," the blonde stated flatly, "using traumatic experiences from my life as a basis for your stories!"

"But just think of the impact it would have!" The purple-haired female lowered her voice dramatically. "_'The girl knew she would have but one chance to make that vital first impression... Imperative as it was that things go according to plan, she could only watch, eyes stricken with sheer terror, as the order she'd sought came crumbling down...'_ You get what I mean? I could make something cool out of this, see?"

"And at what point does Dahlia come bursting into the story to throw chocolate cake everywhere?" Caitlin's voice was dripping with thinly veiled sarcasm.

Shauntal's face brightened and she whipped out her pen again, scribbling feverishly. "Ah, great idea, Caity! That part should come afterwards."

"Hey, did someone say my name again?" Dahlia spoke up suddenly, casting a suspicious look over at the two female Elites. "...Cait, you aren't still talking about my butt, are you? I'm beginning to think you're interested in me."

Indignantly sputtering at this, the psychic contented herself with shooting a hateful look in the direction of Grimsley, who was watching the entire scene in clear amusement. "This is all your fault," she hissed.

He gave her an innocent shrug in response. "Who, me? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, the conflict and the emotions! I have the perfect plot twist!" Snapping her fingers, Shauntal glanced back and forth between the different inhabitants of the room appraisingly. "The protagonist of this new book... She should secretly be in love... with her female friend!"

The former Frontier Brain's eye twitched. "I hope to Arceus you aren't still basing this novel on me."

"It's in the planning stages still. Anything's possible at this point in time."

"That answer doesn't do much to ease my original concern, Shauntal."

"Your original what?" Bent over her writing, the Ghost-type trainer was scarcely paying any attention.

Marshal then spoke up, apparently over his momentary angst at the loss of his enchiladas. "Hey, uh... can we all eat now?"

* * *

The tense glare Caitlin seemed to be shooting every occupant of the dinner table did little to put a damper on Shauntal and Dahlia, whose enthusiastic conversation alone was making more noise than the rest of the room combined. "And then," the Arcade Star was saying through a mouthful of egg roll, "I slipped and dropped the entire cake right on Palmer's head!"

"No way!" Shauntal gasped. "What did Cynthia do after that? She wasn't mad or anything, was she?"

"Nah, I think she thought it was all pretty funny."

The Tower Tycoon set his fork down with a scowl. "Yeah, super funny, for sure," he grunted after a brief pause, glaring at the other Frontier Brain over his plate. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to wash all that chocolate off my head? My hair was still brown after a week!"

Argenta stifled a giggle. "Oh, I remember that! The first time I saw you after that incident, I thought you were Byron... A clean-shaven Byron wearing a green coat, that is."

"What tipped you off that I was me?"

"Mostly the fact that you weren't rambling about fossils or mining, I think."

Grinning at this, Alder stretched out his arms and barked out a laugh. "Well, that sounds like it was quite an adventure. I've never met Cynthia in person, though I've heard quite a bit about her from Caitlin... I think I'd like to have a Pokémon battle with her someday." He took a huge bite of food from his plate. "Shame, though, we don't have as many memorable stories to share as you Frontier Brains probably do. About the most interesting thing that's happened all year was when Team Plasma's giant castle rose out of the ground and attached itself to the League building..."

Dahlia nearly choked on a mouthful of noodles. "Are you kidding? That's way better than any of my lame stories." She picked at her food for a few moments longer, and then plopped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. "...So, is it time for dessert yet?"

"I'm down with that," Marshal agreed, and a few of the others at the table also nodded their assent. While he and Grimsley rose from their seats to bring out the next course of the meal, Caitlin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Why," she mumbled, "am I getting a serious feeling of déjà vu right now?"

"Hey, I promise not to start a food fight this time," the Arcade Star piped up, in a clear attempt to sound reassuring. "...Even though I'm almost _positive_ Thorton was the one who instigated that last incident, what with him refusing to hand over the chocolate pudding—"

"—Here you go, Caity," Grimsley interrupted, reappearing from the kitchen to set a fancy little plate of pie in front of the former Frontier Brain. "A peace offering."

The psychic immediately shoved the dish away. "Not accepted."

"Oh, come on. It's chocolate strawberry, your favorite."

Caitlin eyed the little dessert suspiciously. "...What have you done to it?" she asked finally. "Is it filled with hot peppers? Hallucinogenic drugs? Laxatives?"

The Dark-type Elite took on a wounded expression. "Just try it, would you?"

"Fine, fine, if you really insist..." Snatching the plate back, the female psychic lifted her fork and then, after a hesitant pause, slammed it back down with a huff. Sighing in a long-suffering way, she pushed the pie over to her former butler, sitting to her left. "Here, Darach, you try it first."

The Castle Valet recoiled. He looked genuinely sorry as he meekly said, "My deepest apologies, Lady Caitlin, but I'm rather allergic to strawberries... they make me, uh, die."

The blonde twitched impatiently. "Pass it over to Dahlia, then."

Eagerly grabbing the proffered plate, the Arcade Star wasted no time in digging her fork into the little slice of pie. The black-haired woman's eyes closed in contentment as she took a bite, sighing in a exaggeratedly blissful fashion. "Mmm... yummy." Opening her eyes again and grinning, she slid the dessert back over to the psychic. "Well, Cait, I don't seem to be writhing in pain, dying, vomiting out my innards, or any combination of the three—so I think it's safe."

The Elite Four member rolled her eyes. "Oh, thank goodness. That's a load off my mind." After a moment, however, the corners of her mouth twitched into a scowl and she fixed her gaze back on Grimsley. "...Seriously, though, what did you do to it?"

The raven-haired man threw his hands up in the air. "_Zekrom's sake_, Caity! I didn't do anything to the damned pie!" Under his breath, he added, "...It's the peanut butter toffee cake you should watch out for."

Following the gambler's words, Marshal returned from the kitchen at that very moment to set said cake down in the center of the table and proceeded to slice it with a knife—

_Boom!_

And, defying all logic, the cake suddenly and inexplicably _exploded_ all over the room.

At this unexpected turn of events, there was a variety of different reactions from the League members and Frontier Brains—Thorton and Marshal both looked annoyed, Argenta and Darach looked somewhat appalled, and Palmer (who, by some unlucky twist of fate, had received the biggest faceful of cake) looked downright distraught. Though her eyes were still wide with shock, Dahlia then managed to break the silence with a slightly hysterical laugh and, after a brief pause, Alder and Shauntal joined in as well. This did little to dissolve the heavy cloud of tension in the room, and, in stark contrast, the Psychic-type Elite didn't look amused in the slightest. "Grimsley, give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you on the spot," she said calmly.

"...Because murder is generally looked down upon in society?"

"I'm sure if I explain the circumstances, the authorities will understand that my reaction was perfectly justified."

"Assuming I make it out of this fiasco alive, I'm signing you up for anger management classes pronto, Caity."

"I am already managing my anger quite well, thank you very much. If I wasn't, I assure you that you'd probably be dead by now." The female Elite buried her head in her hands. "Furthermore, _why_, for the love of Giratina's hellish domain, did you feel the need to make an exploding cake?"

The gambler hesitated. "I thought I might... er... facilitate Shaunty's creative processes by creating an emotional and conflicted environment?"

"That is the most unconvincing lie I've ever heard," Caitlin snapped, while simultaneously Shauntal wiped an imaginary tear from her eye and squealed, "Aw, Grims, that's so sweet of you!" (Alder and Marshal both made gagging faces in the background)

Thorton, who had been relatively silent throughout the whole meal, let out a sigh and entered a few numbers into his thankfully unscathed analysis machine. "So, what's the verdict?" he asked the former princess of the Battle Castle. "Better or worse than Cynthia's visit?"

"Better, I guess... No, wait, I'd say it's worse..." Caitlin shook her head. "Oh, Arceus. At this point I have no idea at all."

* * *

Halfway out the door, Dahlia took a moment to scurry back and punched Alder in the shoulder. "Hey, you guys take care of Cait, okay? If you don't, I'll have to come back over here and kick your asses!"

The Champion laughed. "That's a little on the extreme side, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh, that's nothing," the Arcade Star grinned. "You're getting off easy if you just have to deal with me—Darach will rip out all your pretty red hair and use it to knit a scarf with matching mittens. And then he'll kill you."

Mortified, the Castle Valet protested, "Miss Dahlia, I'd never do that!"

"Yeah, yeah, sure you wouldn't..." The black-haired female whipped around and hugged Caitlin one last time. "Bye, Cait! Love ya! ...Uh, in a totally platonic way, you know?" Releasing the Elite from her death-grip, Dahlia quirked one eyebrow in thought. "To tell the truth, the Battle Frontier's been kind of boring lately... maybe you and your group of Unova crazies could come and pay us a visit sometime soon?"

The Psychic-type specialist shrugged. "I suppose I can see if we can get some extra vacation time." Her green eyes suddenly narrowed. "But Dahlia, I do have one condition. And it's doubly important if Grimsley is involved."

"Huh, what is it?"

"...No strip poker or spin the bottle."

The Arcade Star heaved a deep sigh. "Oh, Cait, you're no fun at all."

* * *

**Have any of you guys ever battled that Black Empoleon biker gang? They only show up at Tubeline Bridge on Friday nights, and they really do change their title to the name of the first Pokémon in your party after you defeat them. In my game, they are now called the Black Volcarona. :D**

**Also, on an unrelated note, I think I managed to make Shauntal a better writer than me. How does that even work? It's like Inception—a story within a story!**

**FANFICEPTION.**

**(why am I such a dork today?)**


	16. The World Tournament Of Poses

** Hey, guess who's back from the dead!**

** As requested by Master of Ice and Wuji Grey. Loads of new people in this chapter, so I hope the characterizations I gave everyone are okay. We're also back to Gen IV time. For future requests featuring characters beyond our main group of six, I think I have to place a limit on the number—because writing loads of extra people exhausted me this chapter! xD**

** I'm a bit disappointed that the Elite Four members and Frontier Brains didn't make it into BW2's World Tournament. At least in her E4 rematch, Caitlin seems to have swapped out her Bronzong in favor of (as far as moveset goes) the same Gallade that Darach uses.**

** Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.**

* * *

"Another emergency meeting, Palmer?" Argenta hummed in exasperation, propping her elbow against the table and resting her chin on a gloved hand. "What is it this time? Don't tell me Cynthia's coming again and you only just now remembered..."

The Tower Tycoon rubbed the back of his head with an irritated snort. "I swear, you guys are never going to let me live that down, are you?" The man then plastered a grin on his face, his previous annoyance apparently forgotten. "Anyway, listen, I really appreciate everyone coming here on such short notice. I know it's pretty late for a meeting, but—"

"—It's one in the morning, you gigantic dunce!" Caitlin snapped, glaring at the Frontier Brain leader through slightly bloodshot eyes. "Couldn't this have waited until a more reasonable hour? I was sleeping!"

"You're always sleeping," Palmer countered, and then shrank back in alarm when the princess shot him another murderous look. "...Uh, you know what, forget I said anything." He cleared his throat loudly and turned back to the rest of the group. "Back on topic, the purpose of this meeting was to inform you all of a matter of great importance. You see, we are taking the day off from Frontier duties tomorrow because—"

"By 'tomorrow' you mean 'today,' right? Since it's technically morning right now, and all," Thorton interjected in a bored voice.

Palmer pounded a fist against the table, practically radiating impatience at this point. "Yes, fine, I meant _today_!" he growled. "Now shut up and stop poking holes in my logic. We're taking _today_ off because—"

The blond was cut off again, this time by Dahlia. "You dragged all of us over here to tell us _that_?" she exclaimed with a pout. The Arcade Star was half-sprawled across the table, using a fluffy Torchic plush as a makeshift pillow. Peering around the squashy orange Poké Doll, the black-haired female heaved a heavy, theatrical sigh. "Seriously, Palm, a simple email or something would have sufficed. You woke me up in the middle of a really fantastic dream involving chocolate tequilas, a dancing Pikachu, and a roller coaster shaped like a giant Gyarados."

Grinding his teeth together, the Tower Tycoon raised his voice in an attempt to drown out Dahlia's ramblings. "As I was saying before everyone interrupted me," he continued in an unnecessarily loud voice, "this isn't going to be an ordinary day off. We'll be using this time to commemorate how I've finally perfected my _pre-battle pose_!"

There was a short pause, which was broken by a dull _thud_ as Thorton's forehead collided with the surface of the table. "...Your _what_?"

The blond man groaned in frustration. "My pre-battle pose! The epic and dynamic pose I make before springing into each match!"

"Palmer, I think we all have poses like that," Darach said with a small sigh. "You know, like how Miss Argenta does that flashy thing with her sunglasses?" He demonstrated by turning his head to one side and pushing his own glasses to the top of his head so they caught the overhead light. The Hall Matron smacked his arm.

"You're doing it wrong," she chided with a small laugh. "Watch, the whole thing should be one smooth motion like _this_." She whipped her head around and slid her oversized crimson sunglasses up over her hair, and Dahlia let out a cheer. "That's so cool, 'Genta! Let me try! Can I?" The black-haired woman made grabby motions at Argenta's sunglasses, and the older Brain finally passed them over with a good-natured roll of her eyes.

Caitlin's expression was still one of annoyance. "Well, as _enthralling_ as this all is, I agree with Dahlia's previous statement that an email probably would have sufficed. Or did you call us over so we could compare poses at one in the morning?"

Making a pointed effort to ignore the Arcade Star's squeal of "_Yay, pose party!_" Palmer slammed his fists against the table with an angry growl. "I think you five are failing to see the incredible importance of this occasion. This is my _pre-battle pose_ we're talking about here! Do you have any idea how long it's taken me to get each aspect of my pose to such an awesome level? For starters, I had to—"

"Okay, fine, we get it," Thorton snapped. "Your amazing old-man-pose has transcended past the realm of 'Frontier Brain' and into 'Questionable Godliness.' But I'm afraid we still don't see why this warrants a day off."

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it? I've taken the initiative to invite the Elite Four and Champions from the Indigo, Evergrande, and Sinnoh Leagues... as well as the Hoenn Battle Frontier... to witness an incredible event—a _World Tournament of Poses!_" The blond flashed a proud grin. "I got the idea from Cynthia. Apparently every few years they hold a regular World Tournament—the last one was in a faraway region called Unova, I believe—but what if the competition was judged based on the performances of the trainers themselves, rather than their Pokémon? I figured that might be a good way to keep everything fresh, which is why I thought we'd experiment by having a trial tournament with a few entrants from each region to see how it well it works. What do you guys think?"

"...I think," the Factory Head said dryly, "that you were placed into this world for the sole purpose of annoying me. And you seem to be succeeding admirably."

Palmer frowned. "Okay, excluding Thorton, what do you guys think?"

The Tower Tycoon's question was met with a rather telling silence.

* * *

Volkner sighed, adjusting the collar of his blue jacket with an air of boredom. "Okay, why are we doing this again?"

"Because it's awesome!" Flint planted a friendly punch on the blond's shoulder. "For shock value, I'm thinking about having a Pokémon jump out of my afro. Think that'll work?"

The Electric-type trainer groaned melodramatically. "You know, I could totally be renovating the power grids in my Gym right now instead of wasting time here."

"You're ignoring the issue! What about my 'fro?"

"You don't have a Pokémon small enough to hide in your hairstyle, Flint. And even if you did, I doubt setting your head on fire would impress anyone."

Flint huffed. "Hey, Cynthia's one of the judges, you know. She loves dramatic stuff like that. I think I could score some major points by adding a flashy element to my performance." He cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered, "Yo, Cynthia! How would it look if I had Flareon or Magmortar jump out of my afro?"

The blonde-haired female Champion, seated at the judges' table and in the middle of a conversation with Dahlia, shot the man a confused look. "Flint, I'd really have to advise against you setting your head on fire, or else we may end up being short one member of the Elite Four. And since Bertha is thinking about retiring within a year or two, your premature death would be a bit inconvenient for the rest of us, because then we'd have to scout out two replacements instead of one."

"I won't set my head on fire! Geez, it's like both you and Volkner have zero faith in my abilities."

"Well, I think I have a right to feel concerned," Cynthia sighed. "Aren't Lucian and Aaron still upset about how you melted the toaster oven into a smoldering wreck last week?"

"...My waffles were taking too long to toast."

"That still doesn't justify using your Magmortar's Flamethrower attack to speed the process."

Not-so-subtly listening in on the conversation, Dahlia barely managed to stifle a laugh. "What the hell, Flint, I say go for it!" she cheered with an enthusiastic pump of her fist. The Arcade Star flashed an innocent grin at Cynthia's skeptical expression. "What? It'll be entertaining, at least."

"I think 'dangerous' would be a more suitable word, to be perfectly honest," the Sinnoh Champion said dryly.

Dahlia shrugged. "Well, I suppose we can set up some safety measures. If Flint catches on fire, I'll have Ludicolo extinguish him while _you_ catch the whole thing on camera for prosperity, 'kay?"

Cynthia opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by Agatha. The elderly woman shook her head and made a tut-tutting sound with her tongue. "You young children..." she muttered.

Thorton, standing off to the side, smirked slightly. "Ha, she called you a child."

The female Frontier Brain bristled. "Oh, shut up, Thor. You weren't even selected to be a judge." She gestured meaningfully at the table where she, Cynthia, and Agatha were seated alongside Will and Juan, from the Indigo League and Sootopolis Gym, respectively. "Palmer must've recognized that my skills at evaluating performances are way superior to yours!"

"Actually," the Factory Head countered, after a brief moment of consideration, "he probably chose you after running through a process of elimination. I think Argenta would be tempted to evaluate the contestants based on how they're dressed rather than their poses. Darach would have trouble saying anything negative about anyone. Caitlin would either fall asleep at the judges' table, or just hurl insults at everyone." The boy rolled his eyes. "And he probably didn't choose _me_ because I still think this whole thing is a waste of time. So, yeah. You were the only one left."

The black-haired woman frowned. "...Okay, you know what? I'm not having this conversation with you any more." Pointedly turning away from her fellow Frontier Brain, she then fixed her gaze back on the Battle Hall's magnificent, platform-like stage where each of the competitors were standing. The Arcade Star pulled a face. "Oh, and just leave it to our wonderful Tower Tycoon to set up a totally sexist contest like this. If we're having our pre-battle poses judged, I could totally kick everyone's asses up there. But _nooooo_, everyone on stage is male! I mean, we've got Palmer, Volkner and Flint, Lance, Steven, and... well, yeah, I suppose Wallace qualifies. Totally unfair. What do you think, Karen?"

The Dark-type specialist, sitting in her seat with a faintly bored expression on her face, tapped her chin in thought. "Hmm, oh, I don't know," she hummed. "The participants are all men, sure, but I guess it balances out a bit once you consider that all of the judges except Juan are female."

Choking and spraying his glass of water everywhere, Will shot the silvery-haired woman an incredulous glare. "...Uh, Karen, aren't you forgetting someone? What about me?"

"What _about_ you?"

"Argh!" The psychic buried his head in his hands. "You see what I have to put up with every day?"

Agatha snorted. "Oh, that's nothing, youngster. When _I_ was in the Indigo League, Lorelei would constantly accuse me of stealing her Poké Dolls and using them for voodoo. Where she got that absurd idea, I have no clue..."

"Bruno mentioned that to me one time," Will mumbled, evidently not yet having recovered from Karen's insult of his masculinity. "He told me a story about how one Halloween, you actually went ahead and filled her closet with a nest of wild Gastly and Haunter..."

"Did I? Ah, yes, I remember that now. Such good times," the elderly woman sighed in reminiscence. A short distance away, Lorelei leapt from her seat and shouted, "I heard that, you old _hag_!"

At this new influx of information, Dahlia seemed to have forgotten her outrage at not being a participant in the competition. The black-haired woman regarded Agatha with newfound respect and a thoughtful grin. "Hiding a bunch of Ghost-types in a closet and disguising them as Poké Dolls? Ha, I bet I'd get a good reaction out of Cait with a prank like that. Maybe I could borrow some Pokémon from 'Genta and try it."

"On the other hand, you might be better off pulling jokes on someone who _doesn't_ have an explosive temper and telekinetic abilities," Cynthia suggested wisely.

"But then there's no risk involved!"

"Your idea doesn't involve risk so much as it involves a mandatory death-wish."

The Arcade Star sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. ...As usual."

* * *

With its brightly lit spotlights and flashy catwalk, the Battle Hall's stage always looked like a more suitable location for a fashion show than the Pokémon battles which usually took place. Leaning back in her chair, Dahlia took notice that the other occupants of the judges' table seemed to be pointing out their different coworkers to each other from the audience and stage.

"That's Flint, obviously," Cynthia was saying to Juan, who looked mildly appalled at the sight of the Fire-type Elite's red afro. "The other three are in the crowd somewhere... Ah, there they are, bottom left corner. Bertha and Aaron look like they're having a good time. And Lucian has his nose stuck in a book again, what a surprise."

The Sootopolis Gym Leader, in turn, identified where Sidney, Phoebe, Glacia, and Drake were seated alongside the Hoenn Frontier Brains and a chubby, sunglasses-wearing man with a tropical-patterned shirt. He also pointed out Steven and Wallace, who seemed to be having a heated argument over which of them would show their performance first. Not to be outdone, Will gestured into the crowd at Koga and Bruno (both men looking rather out of place in the fashion theater-esque Battle Hall), Lorelei, who was a former member of the Indigo League's Elite Four like Agatha, and Karen, who then added some commentary of her own to their Dragon-type Champion's introduction:

"And Lance is right up there, talking with Flint about something," the Psychic-type specialist said. "I think—"

"Look, he's doing that stupid whooshy motion with his cape again," Karen interjected with a roll of her eyes. "Seriously, over three years of being Champion and he still can't think of a better pose than that _'I'm going to mysteriously sweep my cape behind me, because I am a badass with a dragon fetish_' thing. Lame!" She raised her voice deliberately. "Lance, your pose sucks and you should feel bad!"

"I don't think he heard you," Will said delicately.

"Oh, he heard. He's just ignoring me, the jerk." The silvery-haired woman let out a dramatic sigh. She glanced over in Dahlia's direction. "So, where are your Frontier friends, anyway? We _are_ on your turf, after all."

The female Frontier Brain quickly scanned the area. She tapped the side of her face with a small shrug. "...Well, Palmer's right up there on stage, trying to hog all the attention. I _still_ think I could totally kick his ass in a pose contest, but what can you do? 'Genta's talking with Glacia, probably exchanging some aging tips or something. Thorton's over there talking with Noland. I'll bet he's discussing some top-secret Battle Factory crap no one cares about. Oh, and Caitlin and Darach look like they're coming this way now."

Karen made a big show of waving the duo over. "Hey, crazy psychic girl! Remember me from before? I saved some seats!" She patted the two chairs directly to her left. "Koga and Bruno were supposed to sit here, but then they decided to be a bunch of party poopers and sit in the back. How boring is that?" She raised her voice again. "Koga, I'm going to tell Janine that you're being a poor role model!"

Caitlin considered the proffered chair with a scowl. "Quit making a scene. And furthermore, why are you even here?"

"Well, gee, I suppose I just walked through the front door and sat down," the Dark-type trainer said cheerfully, after a brief pause. "I mean, isn't that what people usually do when they enter a building to see a competition?"

The princess narrowed her eyes. "No, I mean why are you _here_?"

Karen blinked. "Being a member of the Elite Four, I was invited. Hard concept to grasp, I know." She winked at Darach and blew him a kiss. "Hey there, sweetie! You can sit next to me, since I'm getting a weird suspicion that Miss Grumpypants here still doesn't like me very much. How 'bout a second date once this is all over?"

Immediately, Caitlin turned on her heel. "Darach, we're sitting somewhere else."

"Oops, too late! The show's starting now, so you two need to sit down." A wide grin on her face, the silvery-haired Elite grabbed a fistful of Caitlin's white jacket and practically yanked her backwards onto the chair. Darach cringed, his expression one of worry. "Please be careful, Miss Karen..."

The Battle Castle's princess was rather less subtle in making her unhappiness at the situation known. "For the love of Arceus," she grumbled, shooting the female Elite the dirtiest glare she could muster. "Could you possibly be more annoying?"

Stifling a laugh, the silvery-haired woman shrugged her shoulders and grinned. "Well, sure, but do you really _want_ me to be?"

"I swear, you're even worse than Dahlia—and she spends most of her time dancing in circles like a sugar-high lunatic."

The aforementioned Arcade Star pouted. "That's not very nice, Cait. And I'll have you know that most people find my dancing style to be super unique and energetic! Even 'Tina's a big fan, and she's a pretty accomplished performer herself."

Karen quirked an eyebrow. "Tina?"

"Fantina, the Gym Leader down in Hearthome. She kinda looks like a female version of that guy over there." Dahlia pointed over to where Tucker was talking to Lucy. "'Tina stops by the Frontier sometimes. She always lends me her favorite French cookbooks. And she attends the same dancing lunatic meetings as I do."

"Now you're just mocking me, aren't you?" Caitlin sighed.

"Pretty much, yeah."

* * *

As the chubby, sunglasses-wearing man walked to the center of the Battle Hall's spotlit stage, Cynthia tilted her head to one side and raised one eyebrow. "Um, who is that guy?"

"That's Scott. He's the owner of our Frontier in Hoenn." Juan tugged at his mustache thoughtfully. "Looks like he'll be playing announcer for us, no?"

The blonde-haired Champion opened her mouth to reply, but Scott spoke loudly into his microphone and cut off her response. "_Ladies! Gentlemen!_ And, uh..." The man gestured haphazardly in the direction of Wallace and Tucker. "..._Gentlemen who look like ladies!_ Welcome to our very own World Tournament of Poses!"

There was a loud applause from the audience, over which the Dome Ace's annoyed voice could barely be heard. "Lucy, do you have any food? I'm getting a sudden urge to throw a tomato at that guy."

The raven-haired woman beside him rolled her eyes. "Will you stop acting like it's some great injustice that you dress like a fairy and then people logically poke fun at it?"

Letting out an exasperated huff, the purple-haired man crossed his arms and took on a sulking expression. His gaze swept the crowd. "My appearance is hardly the most eye-catching here, you know. I mean, just look around us. These people all have hideous hair," he grumbled.

"You should feel right at home, then."

"Stop fighting, you two," Brandon suddenly snapped.

Seemingly unaware of the banter taking place between his Frontier Brains, Scott was happily continuing with the announcements. "The rules are simple. Each contestant will attempt to wow our audience with their best pre-battle pose. Afterwards, the judges will decide amongst themselves who had the winning performance. As a prize, our victor will receive a two-week cruise on the S.S. Anne, as well as a year's supply of chocolate fudge."

At this revelation, Dahlia looked aghast. "_Chocolate_ as a prize? Oh, that is so not fair. Cynthia, do you think anyone would notice if I kidnapped Palmer and took his place on stage?"

"Probably, yes."

"Damn."

Scott's magnified voice drowned out the rest of the Arcade Star's complaints. "First, representing Hoenn, we have—"

"Me!" Steven and Wallace simultaneously declared, and both men glared at each other furiously. The Steel-type specialist crossed his arms. "I was the Champion before you were, so I have seniority," he said in a matter-of-fact way.

"Ha! 'Seniority' is right—your hair is gray, is it not?"

"Like your hair is any better, it's green. _Seafoam_ green. Not to mention those ridiculous lightning-bolt sidelocks."

"My sidelocks are a thing of beauty! At least I don't cover my hands with gaudy rings like an old woman."

This bickering went on with no signs of either party giving in, prompting Juan to shake his head in a slightly embarrassed fashion. "Shouldn't we break this up so the competition can move on?"

Agatha croaked out a laugh. "And spoil all the fun? This is incredibly entertaining."

Scott was somewhat less lenient than the retired Ghost-type Elite. Heaving a great sigh, he adjusted his sunglasses and fixed the two Champions with a pleading eye. "Come on, you two, isn't there some way we can settle this like civilized human beings?"

"...Rock-paper-scissors?"

"Good enough." The Frontier owner clapped his hands together twice. "Ready? One... two... three... _go_!"

The spotlights flashed dramatically as the two contestants threw their hands out—and Steven let out a victorious cheer. "Rock beats scissors! Looks like I win this time, Mr. Stupid Sidelocks." Grumbling, Wallace turned away with an annoyed roll of his eyes.

The Steel-type specialist walked to the forefront of the stage, and the audience fell silent in rapt attention. After a short pause, he swept out his right arm so that the metal rings adorning his fingers caught the overhead light with a spectacular flash. The audience burst into wild applause.

"Very nice, very nice!" Scott cheered into his microphone. "Any comments from our judges?"

Dahlia raised her hand. "So, is gray really your natural hair color—"

"Any other comments?" the announcer interrupted quickly.

Cynthia gave an approving nod. "The steel rings and armbands work well with your overall ensemble," she said with a thoughtful smile. "They do a lot to highlight your specialized type."

"Well, the judges seem to approve, but this party is just getting started! Next, we have—Wallace!"

Amidst the many cheers, Juan's voice rang out the loudest as his student-turned-Champion took the center of the stage gracefully. "Splendid! _Magnificent_! The artistry of one who loves the Pokémon dwelling beneath the cascading waters!" The Sootopolis Gym Leader continued with his words of encouragement for nearly an entire minute, before Agatha finally hit him over the head with her cane. Not seeming to have noticed the startled yelp of his mentor, Wallace crouched on one knee and drew his white cloak around his shoulders. With a dramatic flourish, he raised one arm to the sky and let the cloak flutter back down gently. In the light of the Battle Hall, the Water-type trainer's greenish hair seemed to sparkle.

The crowd applauded once more. Scott wiped an imaginary tear from one sunglasses-covered eye. "Elegant and poised! Let's find out what our judges have to say!"

Juan made to enthusiastically scramble to his feet, but when Agatha shot him a threatening glance he contented himself with remaining seated in his chair. Adjusting his mask, Will took the initiative to comment instead. "You've certainly done well to demonstrate the importance of beauty in Pokémon battles, rather than just brute strength," the psychic began. "Overall, I would give you an eight or nine—but only a two on the manliness scale, sorry."

"_What?_" Wallace and Juan both cried in indignation, with Agatha smacking the latter with her cane once more. In the background, Steven barely managed to stifle a laugh. Karen, on the other hand, nearly fell off her chair. "A two on the manliness scale? That seems awfully rich coming from _you_, Mr. Girly Hips!"

Will shot the silvery-haired woman a horrified glare. "My hips are not girly!"

"They're girlier than mine, and I'm the one with the two X chromosomes."

"That's a lie!"

Back on stage, Wallace seemed to have recovered nicely. "We're not being judged on manliness here!" he said loudly, with a flip of his hair. "...Uh, not that I would lose if we were, of course."

"Right then, next contestant!" Scott shouted evasively. "From the Indigo League, here's the master dragon trainer, Lance!"

With a stoic frown on his face, Lance appeared far more serious than had the previous two Champions. Karen, no longer harassing Will, raised both hands and took on a mockingly alarmed expression. "Ooh, look out, we've got a _badass_ here," she quipped. As Lance took his position on stage, the woman added under her breath, "If he does that whooshy cape thing, I'm gonna puke."

* * *

Lance, much to Karen's chagrin, did his infamous 'whooshy cape thing,' in which he squared his stance and swept out both arms so the fabric adorning his shoulders billowed out behind him. After the cheers from the audience had died down, the former Ghost-type Elite fixed the red-haired man with a wry smile, tapping her cane against the side of her chair. "It's been three years since I retired from the League, youngster, and you're still using that same pose?"

"Nice to see you, too, Agatha," Lance sighed.

The elderly woman twirled a lock of gray-blonde hair between two fingers. She gave the Dragon-type specialist a conceding wave of her hand. "Lack of creativity aside, your cape suits you just as well as ever, I suppose."

From the half amused, half gratified expression on Lance's face, it was clear that Agatha's comment was more-or-less meant to be taken as a compliment. The red-haired man returned to his place near the back of the stage with a satisfied nod. Scott scratched the top of his head with a bewildered shrug of his shoulders. "Mmm... Well, okay then, moving on. Next up, we have—Palmer!"

Dahlia waved her arms wildly from her seat. "Come on, Palm! Win it for the Battle Frontier!"

Cynthia shot the Arcade Star a questioning look. "...You just want him to win so you can get your hands on the chocolate fudge, don't you?"

"Yeah, so?"

The blonde-haired Sinnoh Champion sighed. Giving no indication that he had overheard the two females' conversation, Palmer proceeded to stand tall with his arms crossed and the back of his green coat fluttering behind him. Then he dramatically bent his knees into a half-crouch, flexing both gloved fists and flashing his best triumphant grin.

Raising an eyebrow, Cynthia's lips quirked into a smile. "Wow, I think that's the first time I've ever seen him complete that pose without falling over." Back on stage, the owner of the Hoenn Frontier was busy screaming into his microphone. "Such determination! That's the kind of pose that makes you know you're in for a tough battle! Let's find out if our judges agree!"

Dahlia was the first to speak up. The black-haired Frontier Brain was quick to plaster a disarming grin on her face. "Okay, Palm, as much as I want that prize chocolate, I've got to be honest with you... The beginning looks really cool and all, but at the end you just look kind of... well..."

"Constipated!" Thorton called out loudly, causing Noland to snort.

The Tower Tycoon stumbled. "I do not look _constipated_!" he roared.

There was a brief silence, which was then broken by Agatha's reedy voice. "I agree with the short, know-it-all child."

"Ha, she called you short," Dahlia snickered with a wide grin.

Thorton's expression was deadpan. "I'm terribly hurt."

Looking as though he wanted to avoid any further conflict, Scott waved both arms in an attempt to draw attention away from the fuming Palmer. "Only two contestants still remain! Our next performance will be from... Volkner!" There was another crash of enthusiastic applause. When the Electric-type trainer failed to take his place at the forefront of the stage, however, the announcer finally peered over his shoulder and lifted up his sunglasses. "Uh... Volkner, it's your turn now."

"I think he fell asleep sometime during Wallace's performance," Flint huffed, extending one foot to nudge his blond-haired friend in the side. The Sunyshore Gym Leader, sitting on the floor with his head resting against his knees, let out a groan and mumbled something unintelligible. A few more pokes from the Fire-type Elite's foot prompted him to raise his head and blearily look around. "Huh... is it over yet?"

"It's your turn, man!" Flint exclaimed.

The blond sighed heavily. "I pass."

"Like hell you're passing!" The afroed man seized a handful of Volkner's military jacket and shook him violently. Letting out another deep sigh, the Gym Leader rolled his eyes and batted Flint's hands away. Then he lazily stood, swept out one arm while shooting the audience a sidelong glance, and sat back down.

Scott seemed to deflate slightly. "Um, was that it?"

"Yup."

"...I see." The announcer scratched his head and turned back to the stunned crowd. "Well, that was certainly quick and to the point! A _shockingly_ concise performance. The audience sure seems to be _electrified_!"

There was a variety of different reactions among the viewers—many were groaning at the Frontier owner's forced puns, while several female audience members seemed to be swooning over the Gym Leader. Caitlin was apparently not included among the latter group. Crossing her arms over her chest, the princess pursed her lips disapprovingly. "Okay, why is that guy so popular, anyway? He seems like a bit of a moody complainer."

Karen gave a short laugh. "And what does that make you, I wonder?"

Back on stage, the sunglasses-wearing announcer seemed to have recovered from Volkner's minimalistic approach to the competition. At the very least, he was no longer making any electricity-based puns. "Well then, with only one performance left to see, our tournament is finally coming to a close! Last, but certainly not least, here's Flint!"

The afroed Elite Four member all but _ran_ to the center of the stage, attempted a complicated breakdancing maneuver, and then slid across the polished floor on his knees. Flashing a confident grin, he snapped his fingers and threw a Pokéball from his belt. "Come on, Flareon, just like we practiced!"

"_Flaaaaaare!_" the fluffy red-orange Pokémon squealed as it emerged from its container with a flash of light. The Fire-type took a great leap, landed on top of Flint's head, and jumped off with such force that the Elite trainer crashed face-first onto the floor with a tremendous _thud_.

Silence. Then Agatha spoke up. "Ten points for visual entertainment."

"I'm pleased that you didn't set your head on fire after all," Cynthia added. "Although, faceplanting into the floor isn't exactly a good alternative."

Steven frowned. "...I think he might be unconscious."

"Oh, well, just leave him there," Scott said absently. "Now the judges must deliberate and choose the winner. 'Scuse me, folks..." He bustled off and joined where Cynthia, Dahlia, and the others were in the middle of an intense debate. The next few minutes passed quickly.

Karen tilted her head to one side. "So... who do you think won?" she asked a rather uninterested Caitlin.

"Who cares?" the princess yawned.

"Well, aren't _you_ a joy to be around."

After a few more moments of discussion, regularly punctuated by swats from Agatha's cane, the five judges seemed to have come to an agreement. Scott, with an expression of surprise on his face, jogged back to the stage and waved his arms to gather attention. "It seems our victor has been decided," he panted. "The winner of the World Tournament of Poses is..."

The audience leaned forward in anticipation.

"...Volkner!"

The crowd went wild. Half of the women in the audience screamed their support. And the victorious Electric-type Gym Leader, lounging on the stage with his head resting against his knees once more, had fallen back asleep.

* * *

Several hours later, Palmer still looked annoyed. "...Seriously, how could that guy win over me? He barely even did anything. Besides, his hair looks like the back end of a Jolteon."

"Volkner's hair looks almost exactly like yours does. And stop being such a sore loser," Argenta chided, patting the man's shoulder. "I think everyone was just amused by the attitude he showed. Try looking at the bright side of things for once."

"Yeah," Dahlia said with a nod of agreement. "I mean, at least you're not Flint. Last I heard from Cynthia, he was still at the hospital with two black eyes and a concussion."

The Tower Tycoon still had a frown on his face. He scratched the back of his head and heaved a deep sigh. "Well, damn," he finally grumbled. "I think I'm just going to stick with Pokémon battles from now on."

* * *

**Steven and Wallace are good friends, but I always pictured them getting into arguments over random things like whose hairstyle is more stupid. And Will has really womanly hips in his Gen IV artwork. :P**

**Karen continues to blatantly be the creepiest character in this entire story.**


	17. Lady Caitlin's Mailbox

**Well, Caitlin's had her anime debut now. I still can't get over how _gigantic_ her hair is. I mean, seriously—you could strangle a person with that stuff. Get a haircut or something, sheesh. xD**

**This was a quick chapter, but fun to write.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.**

* * *

Dear Caitlin,

How are things in Unova? We're doing great here at the Battle Frontier. I'm sure you must miss your old friends terribly, right? Right?!

Feel free to visit us sometime in Sinnoh. You could even bring your Pokémon League coworkers along for the ride, if you all can find the time off.

By the way, do you have any idea where my favorite green coat is? I set it down somewhere and I haven't been able to find it anywhere. That coat is an essential part of my appearance! How am I supposed to be the awesome Tower Tycoon if I don't look the part?

Still searching for my coat,

Palmer

* * *

Dear Palmer,

I may have telekinetic powers, but unfortunately they do _not_ grant me the ability to locate lost items for you halfway across the globe. Did you check your closet?

Anyway, I wouldn't mind paying Sinnoh a visit sometime soon. I'd love to bring the others, as long as Grimsley and Shauntal can behave themselves.

Caitlin

* * *

Dear Caitlin,

Rhyperior seems to have eaten my coat. Remind me again why I keep that Pokémon on my team?

Palmer

* * *

Palmer,

My deepest sympathies for you, in the wake of this horrific and unavoidable tragedy. And yes, that is sarcasm.

Caitlin

* * *

My most lovely Lady Caitlin,

I miss you _soooo_ much! Like, not even Dahlia's amazing company fills the gap in my heart where you used to reside. Let's run away to Hoenn and get married!

Forever yours,

Darach

* * *

Dahlia,

As commendable as your attempt to impersonate Darach was, it failed for a number of reasons. Namely, he doesn't have atrocious flowery handwriting, nor does he spew romantic nonsense or write letters in glittery pink pen smelling of strawberries. Try harder next time.

Caitlin

* * *

Dear Cait,

You're no fun! And my handwriting is NOT atrocious! See if I ever write to you again, nyaah!

Dahlia

* * *

Dear Dahlia,

Never going to write to me again, huh? What a terrible loss. Well, we'll see how long it lasts.

Caitlin

* * *

Dear Cait,

I swore that would be my last letter to you, but I'm already bored. So you win, I guess.

Love you! (Platonically, so don't get any weird ideas!)

Dahlia

* * *

Dear Caity,

I need help brainstorming for my latest novel. I'm suffering from major writer's block here, so respond pronto!

Thanks!

Shauntal

* * *

Shauntal,

Why are you communicating with me via letters when my room is two doors down from yours?

Caitlin

* * *

Dear Caity,

Ah, good point! I guess I was being a little absentminded there. I might visit you later with some potential story ideas, so try to be awake when I come knocking!

Shauntal

* * *

Caitlin,

Have you seen the ketchup? I'd ask you in person, but you were still sleeping.

M.

* * *

Marshal,

Try the pantry.

Caitlin

* * *

Lady Caitlin,

I hope things are going well for you in Unova. Have you been getting enough rest? Please don't overwork yourself, I would hate to hear you've fallen ill.

I've kept the Battle Castle running smoothly in your absence. It would be wonderful if you could find the time to pay us a visit. Houndoom and Empoleon especially miss you.

Darach

* * *

Dear Darach,

I am doing very well, so try not to worry too much.

Unova has been fine. I trust the Battle Frontier is the same as ever? When my schedule allows it, I am definitely hoping to visit Sinnoh again. Give the Pokémon a big hug for me.

Much love,

Caitlin

* * *

Hey, Caitlin!

How have you been? I've heard from Cynthia that you have a villa in some tropical town called Undella? Would it be okay for me to take a vacation there?

Hope you've been well. We're all rooting for you here at the Frontier!

Argenta

* * *

Argenta,

Cynthia visits the villa in the spring and summer, but I'm sure she'd be fine with sharing the space if you wanted to take a trip to Undella during that time. It's vacant in the fall and winter, but the weather isn't as nice during those seasons. In fact, Unova seems to be taking a chilly turn lately...

I do appreciate your support. It's thanks to you guys that I was able to get this far.

Caitlin

* * *

Caitlin,

Dahlia insisted I write, even though it would have been ninety-three percent more efficient to just send you an email. She said something about how handwritten letters are more personal to receive? Whatever.

Hi. How are you?

Thorton

* * *

Dear Thorton,

It's nice to know that you value our friendship enough to go through the exhausting process of writing a letter. You do lose points for being reluctant, though.

Caitlin

* * *

Caity,

Can I borrow some money?

p.s. I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER.

Grimsley

* * *

Grimsley,

No.

p.s. You are a pestilence.

Caitlin

* * *

Caitlin,

Your mailbox seems to be overflowing. Should I be concerned?

Alder

* * *

**Sometime in the future, we will have the Unova League come to visit the Battle Frontier. I'm thinking of having a five person vs. five person battle between the League members and Frontier Brains, going by the Frontier facility rules. I still need a little more time to think through this idea, though. :P  
**


	18. Homecoming

**Whew, it's been a while. This chapter has been rotting in my computer, unfinished, for months. Still busy with college, but thankfully I'm all done with taking organic chemistry. Thanks for being patient, guys!  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.**

* * *

"_Surrounded by enemies, the group of five faced a severe challenge. As I stepped forward to draw forth my last remnants of courage, one companion turned to me and said in a voice heavy with determination—_"

"Yes, Shaunty, we don't need your narration to know that we're in a deep pile of shit right now." Grimsley's voice cut the Ghost-type Elite off mid-sentence, causing the novelist to shoot him a glare. She jabbed her red pen in the raven-haired male's direction like a tiny sword. "Come on, just humor me, Grims. I'm trying to make the best of our current situation here."

"Yeah, but our current situation involves the five of us being escorted by several police officers to the Battle Tower after triggering this place's security system," the gambler deadpanned. "Not sure how you're supposed to make the best out of anything in this kind of crappy scenario. This is your fault, by the way, Caity," he added as an afterthought, glancing over his shoulder to raise an eyebrow in Caitlin's direction.

The aforementioned female psychic narrowed her eyes in warning. "Oh, really? My fault? And just how do you figure that?"

"Well, to be honest," Alder interjected fairly, "we were all under the assumption that you knew how to disable the Battle Frontier's security alarms... That way we'd be able to keep our surprise visit, er, a _surprise_, you know?"

Caitlin sighed. "Well, first of all, if our flight hadn't been delayed, then we'd have gotten here while it was still daylight out and I wouldn't have had to deal with the alarms to begin with. Second—I suspect Thorton may have updated the Frontier's security system without telling me, which explains why the passcodes I tried didn't work. And third... this is hardly a big deal. Palmer will be able to clear everything up right away." She turned to speak to the nearest officer. "Excuse me, but this really isn't necessary. I used to be the princess of the Battle Castle, you see, and—"

"Oh, right, like we haven't heard _that_ one before," the officer interrupted. He punched a few numbers into a cellphone and held it up to his ear, still eyeing the group suspiciously. "Yes, Mr. Tower Tycoon? It seems a group of hooligans set off the alarm. We're bringing them over to you now. One of them is claiming to be the Castle's princess." The officer listened for a moment to Palmer's reply, and then scratched the side of his face. "Well, yes, I suppose there's _some_ resemblance, but still—I don't recall the princess having such ridiculous hair."

"Time for a haircut, Caity," Grimsley snickered.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," the Psychic-type Elite said flatly. The group came to a halt; they had reached the entrance to the Battle Tower.

Marshal frowned and crossed his arms with a grunt. His intimidating size seemed to be making several of the officers wary about standing too close to him, but he paid them no mind. "Does this kind of thing happen a lot at the Battle Frontier? This impersonation thing, I mean?"

"Hmm, sort of. At the Frontier, we always used to get our own share of pranksters. Sometimes people have dressed up as high-ranking League members because they want to get a match against one of the Brains without having to do all the preliminary battles first. It never works, but people still try." The former princess paused as the doors to the skyward facility slid open. A familiar blond man wearing a pair of Dragonite-themed pajamas walked through and gave the group a tired wave. "Well, if it isn't Caitlin and company. Can't say we were expecting to have special visitors today... especially at this ungodly hour. It's three in the morning, Caitlin. Normal people should be sleeping right now."

"It's only four in the afternoon, Unova time," the psychic countered. "Besides, our flight was late. We were supposed to arrive yesterday. And Palmer, since we've established that I am in fact Caitlin, can you kindly call off the guards?"

The Tower Tycoon heaved a huge yawn. "Yeah, yeah, sure." He gave the little group of police officers a short nod. "Right, then. Everything's under control, so you guys can leave the rest to me." Once the area was clear, the blond man gave another exaggerated yawn. "Now, why is it that you're all here in Sinnoh again?"

This question was met with a sour look from Caitlin. "Oh, of course. So it's okay for Frontier Brains to pay the Unova League a surprise visit, but not the other way around? How very hypocritical of you, Palmer."

"Hey, there's no reason to be like that—this was all just a bit surprising, that's all. Hell, in terms of unexpectedness, having you five randomly show up at our doorstep ranks somewhere between Dahlia hypothetically ditching chocolate and Thorton going a day without insulting me. Part of me is still wondering if this is actually just a really weird nightmare."

The former princess glared. "...I think you're being overly dramatic."

Palmer, instead of responding to this last comment, craned his neck and squinted at a point located somewhere behind the Unova group. "Speak of the devil... looks like Thorton's coming this way now. Should've known those alarms would wake up the whole damn Frontier."

Sure enough, the Factory Head was quick to make it over to the Battle Frontier leader's side and shot the group of Unova trainers an annoyed look. "So these are the idiots who set off the security system I spent all last afternoon recalibrating, huh?" From his belt, he pulled out a Pokéball and nonchalantly released a fierce-looking Charizard, which belched a huge burst of flame into the air. "According to my research, Fire-type attacks are considered to have a thirty-seven percent advantage at driving away intruders compared to all other elemental types in that regard. Shall we put my calculations to the test?"

Caitlin frowned, while Shauntal and Grimsley both ducked behind Alder and Marshal like a pair of human shields. "Thorton, don't you think you're overreacting a little bit?"

"No, not particularly."

"You can just reset the security alarms, you know."

"Sure, but that takes time. And, given that it's currently three in the morning, I'd much rather use that time to _sleep_ than to fix a stupid problem like this."

Grimsley took the time to peek out from behind Marshal and eyed the Factory Head and his Charizard warily. "Hey, Caity, I was sort of expecting a friendlier reception for us."

"_I tried to dodge, but to no avail. Already the sulfurous blaze was before me, and we could only watch helplessly as the ground melted into a pyroclastic fountain of molten—_"

"Not helping, Shauntal," Marshal grunted.

"And Thorton, it's not exactly legal to set people on fire," Palmer added. The blond man whipped around at the sound of approaching footsteps. "Dahlia, you're just in time. Help me convince Thorton that it's both illegal _and_ morally questionable to—"

"Where's the fire?" the Arcade Star interrupted urgently.

The Tower Tycoon paused. "Uh, what?"

"Wasn't that the fire alarm that was going off just a little while ago? I ran over as fast as I could..." The female Brain set one hand on her hip—the other was clenched around an industrial-sized fire extinguisher.

Thorton answered her question in a bored voice. "Oh, _that_. That wasn't the fire alarm, it was the 'security breached by a group of dumbasses' alarm."

Dahlia almost looked disappointed. "Oh, really? Hmm..." She shot her coworker's Charizard a thoughtful glance. "Okay, I've got it! You need to have your Pokémon set something on fire so I can put it out. That way, my trip over here won't have been a complete waste!"

At this, the Unova group exchanged a look. In a loud whisper, Grimsley said, "Quick, they're distracted! Now's our chance to escape—these people are completely insane!"

Dahlia blinked, only just now seeming to notice the Battle Frontier's five guests. "Oh. Hiya, Cait," she said brightly. "Uh, great job tripping Thorton's not-fire-alarm. Didn't you get that letter I wrote detailing the new passcodes? I asked Cynthia to give it to you."

There was a brief silence, during which Caitlin shot the black-haired woman a mildly guilty look. "...Yes, I think there's a small possibility that I may have thrown it away without opening it."

"Aww, why'd you do that? I worked hard on that letter! Even bought some fancy stationary and everything."

"Well, most of the letters I receive from you are incoherent walls of text that read like something out of Shauntal's notebook after she's had too much coffee. How was I supposed to know that there was something special about this particular one?"

The Arcade Star took on an injured expression. "Oh, come on, that's just a _huge_ exaggeration. If you want awful letters, you should see the ones Darach wrote right after you left Sinnoh, when he spent the week hungover on my couch." Considering the situation, Dahlia's voice was extraordinarily cheerful. "I read some of them and nearly puked my guts out!"

"Yeah, that's something I really didn't need to know about, thank you," Caitlin grumbled. She crossed her arms and took a step back as a blur of purple entered her vision. "Um, Argenta—"

"For the love of Arceus, is this your new method for calling emergency meetings, Palmer?" the Hall Matron interrupted in a scolding voice, jogging over to the group. It looked as though she had attempted to apply her usual makeup in a great hurry, and Dahlia burst out into hysterical laughter. In contrast, the blond Frontier Brain leader gritted his teeth let out a frustrated groan. "Will you guys just shut up about my habit of emergency meetings? Seriously, this time it's not even my fault—it's Caitlin's." Childishly, he pointed an accusing finger at the Elite Four member in question.

"Argenta, I'm sorry, but you look downright frightening today," Caitlin said.

"Oh, well, it's nice to see you, too. But _frightening_, really? I was in quite a rush to get out the door after the alarm went off, sure, but it can't be _that_ bad." The Hall Matron pulled a handheld mirror out of her pocket and peered at her reflection. Her eyebrows rose. "...Oh, damn, you're right." She quickly tugged her oversized sunglasses down to cover her mascara-stained eyes. "Better?"

"Sure, but now you just look ridiculous for wearing sunglasses in the dark," Thorton interjected. The female Frontier Brain shot him a glare in response.

Breaking the short silence that followed, the sound of footsteps prompted the others to look around as Darach approached the group from the Battle Castle. Looking tired, he offered a hesitant wave. "Hello, Lady Caitlin."

"Hi, Darach," Caitlin replied calmly.

"If I may ask, why are we all standing around outside?"

"We're standing outside because in my absence, the Battle Frontier seems to have gotten terrible at welcoming guests. What ever happened to proper etiquette?"

"Proper etiquette?" Marshal rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure proper etiquette flew out the window as soon as we tripped the alarms—"

Caitlin punched the Fighting-type Elite in response, and promptly hurt her hand.

* * *

_"In this foreign land, each direction led to a place just waiting to be explored. Would we first visit the skyward tower? Or perhaps the industrious factory? Or what about the_—"

"Shauntal, you're doing it again," Alder said mildly.

"Well, she has the right idea, at least. I mean, shouldn't someone give us the grand tour now?" Grimsley spoke up innocently. Argenta sighed and narrowed her eyes from behind her sunglasses. Crossing her arms, she shot the Dark-type Elite a slightly annoyed look and said, "You _are_ aware that it's still three in the morning, right? Forget about a grand tour—we should be trying to figure out sleeping arrangements for everyone instead."

"What, you need to get back to your beauty sleep or something?" the man laughed.

The Hall Matron was unamused. "Oh, very funny. If you don't shut up, _your_ sleeping arrangements will consist of you spending every night of this visit on a park bench somewhere."

Grimsley pouted. "Caity, she's picking on me."

"Yeah, but you kind of deserve it," the former princess yawned. "So, how are we going to work this out..?"

Dahlia threw both of her arms into the air and let out a loud cheer. "_Slumber party!_"

At this suggestion, however, the four remaining Frontier Brains, as well as Caitlin, all exchanged a look of shared horror. "Miss Dahlia, you remember what happened the _last_ time we had a slumber party here, don't you?" Darach asked with a weary sigh.

The Arcade Star mulled this question over for a few seconds, thinking hard. Finally she snapped her fingers with a victorious grin. "Oh, gotcha, you're talking about the time Cait accidentally set the carpet on fire, right?"

"Well, that wasn't the incident I had in mind, but..."

"Then you're talking about that time the pizzeria botched my order and delivered thirty-five pizzas to us by mistake?"

At this, Argenta pulled a face. "Guess again," the magenta-haired woman sighed, while simultaneously Palmer clutched at his stomach and groaned, "Arceus, I haven't even been able to _look_ at a pizza since..."

"Not that time either, huh? Then..." Dahlia was silent for a short moment, before her expression brightened again. "Oh, I know! You mean that time the power went out and I thought the place was haunted by a group of hungry ghosts."

The Hall Matron gave a sagely nod. "Bingo."

There was another brief pause. The Arcade Star gave a small shrug. "...Hey, it wasn't _that_ bad," she reasoned.

"Oh, really?" Thorton grumbled. "I seem to recall that night being one of the worst moments of my life, particularly when you mistook us for a group of said hungry ghosts."

Shauntal looked a little put out at this. "...Oh, come on, what's wrong with ghosts?"

Caitlin, on the other hand, pursed her lips and let out a heavy sigh. "Look, we're not having a stupid slumber party. In fact, you might remember I had you sign _this_ last time we saw each other." She shoved a crumpled piece of paper into Dahlia's face.

"What is it, a restraining order?" The female Frontier Brain scanned the paper curiously, and it wasn't long before her expression scrunched into one of disbelief. "_'I, Dahlia, do hereby promise to refrain from suggestions of strip poker, spin the bottle, and any other ridiculous wastes of time in the event that the Unova League visits the Battle Frontier...'_ Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" She whipped around with an incredulous groan. "What the hell, Cait? You made me sign a _document_?"

"Right. And now that we have that out of the way, let's get back to sleeping arrangements, shall we?"

The Arcade Star, however, was still staring at the paper in her hand. "...I don't remember signing this. Besides, the stupid thing looks _handwritten_."

Grimsley waved away the Frontier Brain's complaints by flashing a mischievous grin. "Well, it's not against the rules if _I_ suggest something fun to do, right? Party at Caity's place!"

He and Dahlia exchanged a high five.

Caitlin slapped her forehead. "...And here I thought things couldn't possibly get worse."

* * *

**We can look forward to some battles next chapter. :D  
**

**Grimsley and Dahlia are in direct competition for the 'let's make everyone's life difficult' award.**


End file.
